#hehehehe she gets to care for him for once!

[em1i2a3]

At The Beach, In Every Life

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Rogue Inspired!Fem!Reader

Summary: In the aftermath of you and Bob’s argument, you make a rash decision that changes everything. (Conclusion of Sailor Song, and Fable!)

Warnings: Angst…A lot of it once again…What can I say, I love the sadness 😩

Author’s Note: Well, this is the final part of this series, I hope y’all enjoy! I loved writing this a lot, it was a bit sad, but very therapeutic, and I hope it does the series justice. Also SURPRISE WITH THE DOUBLE UPDATE heheheh

Word Count: 5,621

A few weeks later, the dreams of you had stopped completely.

There were no more golden fields. No more glimpses of you half-turned with sunlight caught in your lashes. No more moments where your name left Bob’s lips and you smiled. No more touching. No more holding. There was only darkness now. Cold, still, and absolute.

It was a silence that didn’t just exist in his sleep anymore–it followed him like a shadow. Bob hadn’t said anything about it to anyone, but the emotional shift was unmistakable. He stopped showing up to breakfast, and began skipping team meetings without any explanation. He limited his conversations, and when he did choose to speak, it was barely a whisper–low and distant, like his voice has to travel through walls just to reach the people he was communicating to. His hands began trembling again, and he started sitting on them to try and numb the tingling that worked through the nerves, but nothing seemed to solve the issue.

Everyone had noticed, and for those that didn’t, it became apparent to them really quickly when you left the compound out of nowhere.

It had been exactly one week since the retreat–since the night on the porch, when you left him with words that shattered him like glass.

The morning in question had started quiet. You hadn’t shown up for your usual session in the training room. The logs were untouched, and your comm was shut off.

At first, no one panicked. You were a private person, and oftentimes you disappeared for a few hours, whether it was for a walk in the park, or to window shop because you couldn’t stand the thought of going into crowded stores. The team knew you sometimes craved some alone time, and they respected it.

But by noon, Yelena felt it in her bones that something was wrong.

There was no movement on the hall cams, and no heat signatures coming from your room–last time she had checked it had been fourteen hours since the last reading. She told herself you were asleep, or reading, or hiding from everyone like you sometimes did after a stressful night–but something in her chest had already gone tight.

And then she remembered.

Two nights before you had gone radio silent, you’d found her in the kitchen just before midnight. You didn’t say much–just leaned against the counter in your pyjamas and gloves, and sipped from a mug of tea, watching as she cut an apple. There was something restless in your eyes that night, something stormy, like you had been mulling over a thought that was bigger than your entire being. You asked her a question–a stupid, hypothetical one, she thought at the time.

”If you were in my shoes…Would you want to get rid of the power? Would you want to be normal?” Yelena had paused, her knife stilling over the cutting board. She had looked at you with a concerned look plastered on her face, and her eyes were already grilling you.

”What kind of question is that?” She asked, noticing the way you shrugged. She was trying to gauge your body language, attempting to somehow read your mind.

”I’m just curious,” You said quietly, “Would you get rid of the power or not?” Yelena gulped, looking back down at the apple she was slicing, chewing on the question for a moment. She knew she had to be careful with how she answered, because it was easy to misinterpret her words, so she cleared her throat, and looked back up at you.

”No…I’d want something better…Something that makes sense. Something that keeps me, exactly the way I am.” She responded. You didn’t say anything back, you just broke eye contact and glanced down at your steaming cup of tea, but Yelena had gone on, trying to shrug the question off like it was just a late-night talk between friends.

”There has to be something that gives you both…That lets you keep what’s yours without it being a danger towards everyone else around you…I think you shouldn’t throw away part of yourself because it’s hard, you should figure out how to live with it, hell maybe there’s research that you haven’t looked into yet.” You nodded slowly, and told her she was right before ending the conversation.

Now, when she was standing in your doorway the day you had gone missing in action, Yelena’s stomach turned.

Drawers were yanked from their tracks. Clothes were scattered. Your closet was cracked open like a wound, and your bed was rumpled, with the blanket hanging off the edge. A hoodie was bunched up on the floor, like it had been dropped mid-thought, and a glass of water was knocked over on your desk, which had slowly soaked into a folder of mission reports.

Your car keys were missing, and your go-bag–the one you said was for emergencies only–was gone.

There was no note, no message, not even a scribbled post-it on the fridge, there was just absence.

When Yelena and the rest of the team made the discovery Bob hadn’t been far. He was slouched on the couch in the living room staring at the same page of a book he hadn’t turned in hours. Bucky had rushed down the hall to find him, but he said nothing–he just looked at him with eyes that already held grief–and Bob followed, silent and pale, like he already knew something dire happened.

When he reached your room, he stopped mid-step in the doorway and didn’t breathe for almost a minute. He didn’t speak, nor did he blink. He just stared at the spot where your boots used to sit–lined up perfectly, always tucked against the wall. They were gone. Just like you.

The physical absence of you was worse than anything Bob could have imagined, because it didn’t just feel like you were gone–it felt like the world had been cracked open and left gaping. Like something that was sacred to him had been plucked out of the air and now everything around him was too loud and too quiet all at the same time. The light didn’t fall the same way through the windows, and the hallways felt longer…Even the sky looked wrong to him.

He began to spiral.

Not all at once. Not in a way anyone could fix. But in slow, shattering increments that no one could stop.

He started locking his door.

Stopped replying to messages unless it was mission-critical.

He wouldn’t eat unless someone left something at his door and walked away without speaking. He barely slept. And when he did, he didn’t dream. Not anymore. The golden fields were gone. So was the version of you who smiled and reached for him.

Now there was only blackness. Still. Silent.

And Bob cried when he thought no one could hear. He curled up on the floor of his bathroom or curled into the corner of his bed with his face pressed to the hoodie you left behind in your room. He had held it like it might still carry the shape of you if he clung hard enough. But the sweet scent of you had already begun to fade. Then on top of all that, that’s when the dreams ceased to exist.

He kept trying to stay busy. He organized his books, then destroyed the order and started again. He wrote down a list of things he wanted to say to you if he ever saw you again, then tore the page to pieces before he finished the last line. He tried to bake a cake, but he burned it. Then dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor and sobbed so hard Bucky had to pull him away from the smoke and extinguish the flames.

Nobody knew what to do, not even Alexei.

Walker offered to spar with him–Bob declined without meeting his eyes.

Ava left a stack of research papers on alternative power-dampening tech outside his door, and he didn’t open them.

Bucky was able to sit with him in silence but that didn’t help.

And Yelena kept checking gate logs, just in case you showed up, but nothing came. There were no messages, no information, and no you.

That was until one night, four weeks after your disappearance.

It was just past midnight when Yelena’s phone rang. She was in the kitchen, again, this time she was going through security footage of the 24 hours before and after you went missing.

The number that flashed across her screen was unrecognizable–no name, no contact photo. Just a block of jumbled numbers. It was the kind of number you didn’t reply to unless you were expecting to receive bad news. She almost let it go to voicemail…But something in her gut twisted, like her instincts were screaming for her to do the complete opposite of what a normal person would do.

So she answered.

”Hello?” There was silence on the other end for a beat or two, and then that’s when she heard it.

“Yelena…Please don’t hang up.” You said quietly. Yelena’s whole body locked up instantly. She didn’t say your name, she was too shocked to. For a second, she thought she was dreaming–hallucinating maybe. She had been losing sleep over your whereabouts, and she assumed that maybe it had finally splintered into pure delusion…But she knew your voice well enough, and she knew that wasn’t the case.

”Where the fuck are you?” She asked, voice low and trembling with rage. She tried to keep quiet, not wanting to garner attention from the other teammates, knowing that there was a possibility you would hang up if you heard anyone else’s voice apart from hers.

”I can’t tell you that,” You said softly, “I’m…I’m not trying to make this worse. I just needed to hear a voice that was familiar.” Yelena closed her eyes, and gripped the counter so tightly her knuckles went white.

”You left. You ran off. You didn’t leave a note, and you didn’t say goodbye…And now you call acting like you didn’t do anything wrong. How could you be so stupid Y/N?” There was silence on the other end for a moment, before she heard a sigh.

”I know what I did was wrong…And I’m sorry Lena…” There was a rustling sound, like you were outside. Wind moved through the line, maybe it was the shaking of trees or it was gravel crunching under your foot. It was distant, and soft, but it certainly wasn’t local, Yelena could tell.

“I found something,” You started, “A group out east. They call it ‘Second Light'.’ It’s this…Rehabilitation program for powered individuals with high-level threat classifications. It’s off the grid in upstate Maine, near Camden, hidden in the woods…” Yelena didn’t say anything, she just sat in silence.

”They don’t promise to fix you…They just promise to help you understand yourself. I don’t even know what I’m hoping for…I just–I wanted to be somewhere I couldn’t hurt anyone.” You added, and Yelena could feel the venom rising in her throat.

”Well it’s too late for that Y/N.”

“I know.” You responded.

”You should’ve told us…You should’ve told him.” There was a pause, and then your breath shook.

“How is he?” Yelena nearly laughed. It was a sharp, dry sound with no humor behind it, and she stood up from her seat and began walking around the kitchen with her eyes closed.

”How do you think he’s doing? He’s not eating, he’s not sleeping. I don’t think he’s seen the sky in four fucking weeks Y/N. Does that give you an answer? Or do you want more details?” Yelena’s voice was sharp, cracking around the edges. Her fury wasn’t clean. It was jagged, wrapped in grief. And for a moment, all she could hear on the other end of the line was your breath–shallow, shaky, like you were trying not to fall apart.

And then came the sound. A sniffle, quick and broken.

”It’s not like I don’t miss him, Lena.” Your voice dropped to a whisper full of splinters, “I miss him with all my fucking heart. Every second. Every breath. Every time I try to fall asleep, I remember he’s not down the hall from me. But you don’t know what that’s like…You don’t understand what it’s like to be around someone that you have such intense feelings for and you can’t touch them. You can’t feel them…You can’t hold onto them. You’ll never understand what it’s like to not be able to hold the person you–“ You cut yourself off with a breath that shook so hard it cracked through the receiver, as you tried to compose yourself with a shaky breath.

”I’m doing this because I want to live a normal fucking life with him one day…I want to wake up next to him and not worry that I’ll kill him if I roll the wrong way. I want to be able to hold his hand…To kiss him…Without thinking or being cautious.” Yelena’s back hit the fridge, and she slid down it, the cool metal biting her skin.

”Then why didn’t you tell him any of this?” She hissed, “Why didn’t you give him a chance to understand? Why did you push him away when we were at the cabin?” You exhaled so softly, it barely registered over the line. When you finally spoke, your voice was wrecked.

”Because he would’ve given himself up to be with me…He would’ve let go of who he was, and he would’ve tried to let the Sentry take over completely–just so he could be close to me. He would’ve burned himself to glow brighter, and I couldn’t ask that of him, I wouldn’t survive knowing I let him sacrifice the parts of himself that were still healing just to feel my skin.” Yelena’s breath hitched, but she didn’t interrupt. She didn’t need to. You were unraveling now, bleeding truth down the phone line, the confession clattering like shattered glass between you both.

“Bob is…Fragile. Not weak, but fragile, Lena. He’s been holding himself together with trembling hands since the day we took him in, and I saw it in his eyes…That night on the porch–I felt it. He would’ve said yes to anything. He would’ve given up being Bob just to be mine.” You swallowed, hard. Your voice thinned into a whisper, “And I want him…God, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But not at the cost of who he is.” Yelena leaned forward, elbows digging into her knees, fist pressed against her mouth as her heart broke in slow motion.

“You think he’s better off now?” She asked, “You think he’s safe because you’re gone? He’s not. He’s broken and he’s slipping, and we are all struggling to catch him right now.”

“I know,” You whispered, “I know I made it worse, but I’m trying to be strong for him in the only way I can…I’m doing this so that when I come back I can give to him all the things I’ve been starving to give…” Your voice cracked again, the final words hitting like a stone dropped into water. Yelena clutched the phone tighter, her voice finally softening–but not with forgiveness. Just with desperation.

“Can you at least talk to him, Y/N?” She whispered. “Can you give him anything to pull him out of the hole he’s in? Please.”

The word landed like a bruise–please–because Yelena didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. And now here she was, curled against the refrigerator, voice raw and trembling with the effort of trying to hold up what little was left of you both. There was a pause on your end. Long. Heavy. The only sound was wind brushing across the mic and the faint static of distance. You swallowed so quietly Yelena could hear it through the line.

“…You can give him this number,” You said finally. “Tell him he doesn’t have to call. He doesn’t owe me that. But if he ever wants to…If he ever needs to…” Your voice broke, but you pushed through it anyway. “…I’ll answer. No matter what time it is. No matter where I am. I’ll pick up.”

Yelena pressed her eyes shut, nodding even though you couldn’t see it. Her throat tightened.

“I’ll tell him,” She said.

“Thank you,” You murmured. “And Lena?”

“Yeah?”

“…Just…Stay near him. Please. I know he won’t ask for help, but–don’t let him drown.” Yelena bit her lip so hard she drew blood, holding back the swell in her chest.

“I’m trying,” She said quietly. “But he needs you, not me.”

A breath caught in your throat, and before you could say anything Yelena hung up. She sat still for a long moment, with the phone cradled against her chest. Her eyes stung, and her heart ached in places she had not known could ache like that.

She sat at the kitchen table, lit only by the dim under-cabinet lights, scribbling your number onto the back of a takeout menu–then rewriting it again, neatly this time, onto the inside of a folded notepad page. She stared at it for a while. Ran her fingers over the ink like she could steady herself with the pressure of its presence. Then she stood.

Bob’s door was cracked open when she got there.

Not locked like it had been for days. Just…Barely open, as if he didn’t have the energy to close it anymore.

She knocked once, soft.

He didn’t respond.

“Bob?” she said gently, peeking in.

The room was dim and still. Bob sat at the foot of his bed in a sweatshirt that hung loose on his frame, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his fingers twisted together like they were trying to keep him tethered. He looked up slowly, bleary-eyed and distant. Like the world was a radio station he couldn’t quite tune into.

Yelena stepped inside and crouched down in front of him. She didn’t sit. Didn’t linger. Just held out the piece of paper.

He looked at it like it was something sacred. Something terrifying.

“She called,” Yelena said quietly.

His eyes snapped to hers.

“She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s in some place called Second Light. It’s in Maine–rehab for powered individuals, off-grid.” Her voice stayed level, but it cracked once around the edges. He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. His chest was rising fast and shallow, like breathing had suddenly become difficult.

“She didn’t ask me to convince you of anything,” Yelena added, pressing the paper into his hand. “But she said…If you ever wanted to talk. She’d pick up. No matter what.”

Bob took the paper like it might fall apart if he held it too tight. His thumb smudged the edge. He stared at the numbers. Silent. Pale.

Yelena didn’t wait for his decision.

She just reached out, squeezed his shoulder once, and stood.

“Whatever you do,” She said softly, “Do it for you. Not for anyone else.”

Then she walked out and closed the door behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bob sat frozen for a moment. Then, with shaking fingers, he reached for his phone, and typed in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button for a split second, before he pressed it and brought the speaker to his ear.

The line rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And then–

“Hello?” Your voice broke like dawn through fog–quiet, breath-warmed, and raw with the kind of vulnerability that only comes when you’re bracing for impact.

Bob froze.

Not just his hands, or his breath–but in his soul…Something inside him went utterly still. It wasn’t peace, not quite. But it was close. Like that first inhale after you’ve been drowning, the way your lungs tremble under the relief.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked so hard on your name it didn’t even sound like him. The syllables were hoarse, wrecked, like they’d been caught in his throat for weeks–because they had.

There was a pause on the line. One breath. Two.

Then–

“Bob…” Your voice softened into something that sounded like disbelief. Breathless and aching. His name came out of your mouth like a secret you’d been holding too long. Like a prayer you weren’t sure would ever be answered. His eyes shut tightly. A tremor ran through his shoulders.

“I didn’t know if you’d call,” You whispered. He could hear the wind behind you, faint but constant, like you were standing just outside somewhere. Alone.

“I didn’t know if you’d pick up,” Bob said. You both went quiet again. Not the kind of silence that hurts, but the kind that trembles between two people who have too much to say and no idea where to start.

“I…” Bob swallowed, and it was audible through the line. “A-Are you okay?” The words slipped out fast, heavy with concern.

“I’m okay…I promise. I’m not in any danger…I…I just couldn’t keep hurting you by staying.”

“Y-You weren’t hurting me,” Bob said quietly. “But…You hurt me when you left.” There was a crackle of static across the line, but neither of you moved to fill it. It stretched for several heartbeats–full of words unsaid, grief unspoken.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, and it nearly crushed him. “I should’ve told you I was leaving. I should’ve said goodbye. But I knew if I looked at you… I wouldn’t be able to go.”

Bob closed his eyes. His free hand trembled in his lap, clutching the paper Yelena had given him so tightly it had begun to wrinkle. He pressed the phone harder to his ear, as if doing so could make you physically closer.

“Why didn’t you let me help you?”

“Because you already carry too much,” You breathed. “Because I’ve seen what happens when people ask you to bear more than you should. And I couldn’t be the thing that pushed you over the edge. I couldn’t be the reason the Sentry came back.”

“You wouldn’t have been,” He said immediately, desperate. “And you never will be. The only time I ever felt like I could hold myself together was when I was near you.” You let out a shaky breath.

”Bob…”

”Please tell me you’ll come home…” He interrupted before you could continue. There was a pause and he swore he could hear your heartbeat through the speaker.

”I don’t have a date yet,” You said, quiet and trembling, “But when I do…I promise I’ll tell you first.” Bob pressed a hand to his chest, like he could soothe the ache under his ribs with sheer pressure.

“O-Okay…” There was a pause, and Bob heard another gust of wind blow by the speaker/

“I miss you…” He added, voice small. You didn’t answer right away. But when you did, he could hear the sorrow behind your words.

“I miss you too, Bob. I think about you all the time. You’re…Everywhere. In the little things. I can’t even make tea without hearing your voice in my head asking if I want honey in it.” You laughed under your breath, but it broke halfway through. “God, I missed your voice so much…” He dropped his head, let his eyes squeeze shut.

“I haven’t dreamed of you since you left.”

There was a long pause.

“Not once?” You asked, and the tremble in your voice fractured him. He shook his head even though you couldn’t see it.

“No more fields. No more sunlight. Not even your name. Just…Nothing. It’s like you got pulled out of the part of me that knew how to dream.”You were silent for a long time. When you spoke again, it sounded like you were holding back tears.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered. “That’s not what I wanted. That’s not what this was supposed to feel like. I thought I was protecting you.”

“I know,” He replied softly. “And maybe you were. But it still feels like someone carved the color out of the world.” You let out a breath that caught halfway up your chest.

“I still see you, Bob. In my sleep. Every night. You’re always there. Reading. Smiling. Saying my name like it means something.”

“It does mean something,” He said, sudden and sure. “It means everything to me.” You both fell quiet again, but the line didn’t feel empty–it felt like it was being held between you, like a thread stretched across distance.

“I should let you sleep,” You said eventually. “It’s late.”

“I don’t really sleep,” He admitted. “Not lately.”

“Still…I’ll be here tomorrow.” Bob nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Okay. I’ll call.”

“I’ll pick up.”

There was a pause. A heartbeat. A thousand things unsaid in the silence.

“Goodnight, Bob.”

His voice broke on the answer. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The line went dead, but he didn’t move for a long time. Just sat there on the edge of the bed with the paper still in his hand, and the phone pressed to his chest–like he could keep the warmth of your voice inside him a little longer. Like maybe if he held still enough, he could start dreaming again.

———Three Months Later———

The sun was sinking low on the horizon as you pulled into the backlot of the compound.

It had been ninety-one days, and every single one was spent counting down to this.

You had put in the work, you had done every single activity Second Light gave to you. They helped unravel the mental block that was inhibiting you from containing your powers properly, they gave you techniques on how to control everything, and own it rather than have it own you. It took a lot of time, but when you were finally able to get the courage to touch one of the counselors without fear of hurting them, you cried for hours.

The tires crunched over the gravel, and your hands–steady, and sure–tightened around the wheel as you brought the car to a stop in your old spot. Your heart pounded so loud it echoed in your ears. You hadn’t told anyone else the exact time you’d be arriving. Just Bob. And when you looked up toward the main doors–there he was.

Bob stood perfectly still at the top of the steps, hands clutched at his sides like he didn’t trust them not to tremble. His eyes were wide, too-bright in the low golden light, and his mouth was slightly open, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. His sweatshirt looked too big on him again, sleeves bunched at the wrists, and his hair was messy like he’d been pacing with his hands dragging through it all day. He hadn’t moved an inch. Not until you flung the door open.

You slammed it behind you and ran.

Hard, fast, and unthinking–like you had been holding yourself back for too long and couldn’t wait one more second. The sound of your boots echoed over the concrete of the backlot, and Bob descended the steps just as you reached them. Your arms collided first, wrapping around his shoulders, and his hands caught your waist so firmly it made your knees buckle. The impact knocked a breath out of both of you.

“Bob,” You gasped against his neck.

“God–” His voice cracked as his arms crushed you closer, one hand at your lower back, the other gripping the back of your jacket like if he let go, the ground might fall out from under him. “I-I missed you–I missed you so bad.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, and his chest was warm and alive beneath your cheek. No gloves. No hesitation. Just contact–real, and grounded, aching with every second lost and every second recovered.

When you finally pulled back–just enough to see him–your hands slid up his chest, slow and reverent. You cradled his face between your palms, thumbs brushing the smooth apples of his cheeks, and he leaned into the touch with a breathless noise that tore straight from his chest. His stubble was warm and soft beneath your fingers, the bone beneath solid and familiar.

“You feel…” You whispered, eyes searching his face like a map you’d only ever been allowed to look at from a distance. “God, you feel real.”

Bob’s eyes shimmered. He lifted one trembling hand to wrap gently around your wrist, and with aching care, he turned your palm inward and pressed a kiss to it.

His lips lingered there. Like he didn’t just want to kiss you–he wanted to memorize the pulse beneath your skin. His breath hitched as he pulled away just enough to whisper against your fingers:

“I-I’ve been looking forward to this…For ninety-one d-days…” You swallowed hard, feeling the limp in your throat.

“I kept dreaming about what it would feel like to touch you. And when I realized I could–I knew the first person I ever wanted to hold like this again…Was you.” You whispered.

He looked at you like you hung constellations in his chest.

And then he leaned in.

It was slow at first, but when your eyes fluttered shut, and your breath ghosted over his lips, he immediately closed the gap and kissed you.

It was soft. So soft it nearly broke you.

Mouths brushing, lips catching, breath mingling between one shared heartbeat. His hand slid up to cup your jaw as yours clutched the front of his sweatshirt, and the kiss deepened with a quiet, desperate sound from his chest. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. But it was everything you had both been waiting for.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and your breaths came in tandem–shaky, trembling, full of something holy.

You stayed wrapped in that shared breath, forehead to forehead, the weight of absence melting between your bodies. His thumb brushed along your cheek, catching a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. You laughed softly under your breath–shaky and overwhelmed–as your hands slid into his hair, fingers curling at the nape of his neck just to feel more of him.

Bob pulled back a few inches, just enough to look at you.

And he looked. Like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face, like you might disappear if he blinked. His lips were parted, breath still coming in short little exhales, and his eyes looked like they were drowning in stars.

“I need to kiss you again,” He said, voice low, like a prayer barely surviving in his throat. “Please.”

You nodded and this time he didn’t hesitate.

This kiss was different.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t soft.

It was everything.

He kissed you like you were the gravity keeping him on the ground, like he had been dreaming of your mouth every single night and was now trying to make up for every one he had woken from aching. It was unsteady, raw, and filled with three months worth of longing that was unspoken through trembling phone calls and sleepless nights.

You whimpered into it, gripping his sweatshirt like a rope as he backed you up toward the concrete wall until your spine met the coolness of it. His hand slid up the side of your body, careful, reverent, his palm finally resting over your heart.

And when he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours again, his breath hitched–then stilled.

“I–I love you,” He said.

It broke like thunder between you, cracking the silence with truth too big to hold back any longer. “I love you,” He repeated, as if saying it once couldn’t possibly be enough.

“I love you, and I never stopped. Not for a single second. I didn’t know how to say it before you left, but I said it every time I closed my eyes. Every time I picked up the phone. I was afraid it would hurt you to hear it–but not saying it hurt more.”

Tears welled again, catching the glow of the fading sun, and you cupped his face tighter, your thumbs brushing the wet beneath his lashes.

“You just said it perfectly,” You whispered. “You said everything.”

And then your voice broke–just a little. Because this time, it wasn’t from pain. It was from something fuller. Heavier. Brighter.

“I love you too, Bob. I think I’ve loved you from the start–I just didn’t know what to do with something that big. But I’m not afraid of it anymore. I’m not afraid of touching you. I’m not afraid of myself. Not if it means I get to have you.”

His breath caught, and he leaned in again–gentler this time. His lips brushed yours in a kiss that felt more like a vow. Slow. Sure. Infinite.

Around you, the backlot was quiet. The last of the sun slipped below the skyline, casting everything in a golden afterglow that made the world feel suspended–like time itself had paused just to bear witness. And when Bob pulled back again, smiling for the first time in what felt like years, he whispered,

“W-Welcome home..”

You smiled back, radiant through your tears, and took his hand.

“Take me inside,” You said. “I want to start over. Right here. With you.”

And together, under the weight of everything that had brought you back, you walked into the compound hand in hand.

Like nothing had ever broken.

Like everything had always led to this.

——LE FIN——

[lheslie]

Mohawk mark x reader wife Let's say Mark and the reader had a little girl and funny enough Mark got attached to her and wanted to have lots of girls, because he's such a great dad hehehehe because I always imagined that Mohawk Mark would be better with girls than the boys Also, because Mark fell in love with the reader while she was pregnant.

Mohawk Mark X Wife Reader: Daughters

THIS IS SO REAL, I LOVE THIS.

Warning: Fluff

It all started when the vassals asked for an heir. Mark didn't want an offspring because it would be a pain as he wanted your time and attention, but the throne needed an heir, so Mark had to ensure it was secured for his bloodline.

So you both decided to have one child, just one that was it.

But damn, Mark was watching you riding a Yoga ball and exercising your belly, he just saw your curvy ass.

Maybe seeing you pregnant wasn't bad at all, in fact, you became prettier in his eyes, whenever you pouted and complained about his love and affection made him fall for you even more, he thought that your belly bulge was hot, it was like telling the whole galaxy that you were his and his alone.

He made sure everything that you've ever craved was there, and even the craziest requests you've asked him to were met.

Although he hates your morning sickness and bad temper, it was all worth it when he saw your belly bulge and especially your exercising with the Yoga ball.

"Damn, I love seeing you exercise your ass." He said sipping some Soda.

"Mark..." You whined.

"My bad that ass is what got you pregnant too." He said laughing.

He loves holding your belly and talking to the baby inside.

"Once you're born, you're going to help me conquer multiple planets." He declared.

"Mark, they'd still be an infant." You laughed.

"Yeah, but I'm going to show them to the whole world like in the movie Lion King; you know that'd be cool."

Nine months later, you gave birth to a beautiful daughter; Mark was with you, holding your hand.

The doctor handed Mark your daughter.

The baby comes in his arms, holding Mark's finger.

He never thought you could make something so tiny, so fragile, and adorable.

After having your firstborn, Mark carried your daughter around, flying in the air as he rocked her to sleep.

"Mark, be careful she might fall." You worried.

"I'll be fine, I'd kill thousands before they even lay a finger on her." He looks at your daughter lovingly as she giggles at the sight of her father.

He gives her a kiss on the cheek she giggles even more.

"I want more." He said looking at his daughter.

"What?" You looked at him shocked.

"I want more." He repeats.

He places your daughter in the crib as he leaves them with the wet nurse he assigned to look after your child.

He carries you to the bedroom.

"We need more." He strips off his clothes.

"MARK-" You squealed as he started giving you kisses.

A few years later, you have no idea how you've given birth to 5 beautiful daughters.

They were all their father's favorite, and with your guidance, they turned into lovely ladies.

But that's whenever you're not around, they cause chaos with their father.

Mark loves carrying your little daughters around, running around with them playing tag.

He would make them an entire castle filled with toys, slides, and little Barbie houses and give them unicorns.

The castle is a full fortress that would protect his daughters from any incoming attack.

One time, his daughters tied his Mohawk and gave him a makeover, forcing him to attend a tea party with tutu wings and a mini tiara.

You were giggling, looking at a rugged man in pink, getting his nails done while someone was pouring him tea, while he complained to his kids about how he wanted to conquer a planet, but you didn't let him.

Mark would hold extravagant balls each birthday for his daughters, and they even have crown jewelry on their closets.

Mark would give them everything they'd ever want, Jewelry, Designer clothing, and money.

Mark is weak for his daughter's lovely pleas as they ask for more luxurious jewelry.

Mark would conquer planets for his daughters.

No one could sway Mark's mind except for you and his daughters.

He would personally love to teach his daughters how to fight and conquer planets.

He even bought them on the battlefield on the backlines, though, to ensure their safety.

Mark would also make statues to show planets his daughter's beauty.

If any man ever attempted to court your daughter, consider them dead, as no one is worthy to marry his daughter.

He'll threaten and even kill those who would even attempt to do so.

He'll still see his kids as little babies walking around, he can never see them growing up.

So when they do, he'll have the biggest heartache.

You sometimes look at him and wonder if he was the one who gave birth to all of the kids because he cried harder when they left for college, and you had to comfort him through it.

Your kids never knew that he cried because he can never show his little princesses that he's weak.

He only wants them to see his strong side so they can always remember that they can always rely on their father.

[demonic0angel]

A run in with strange magic makes Jazz and Jason experience the pain the other suffered at different points of their life. And of course because nothing can be simple, it occurs vaguely chronologically and over time. (To my mind it's just the pain sensation, not like suddenly having actual broken bones)

Jason knows Jazz is tough (tougher than him), but still comforts her as she toughs out the very shitty years of his life over the past hour. He apologizes when it gets to... Ethiopia.

She comes to a realization, and holds him closer. At first he thinks it's for her own sake, until he hears her own weak apology.

The grief he's hit with a second after feels suffocating.

Jason was still in highschool when he died. Around the same time Jazz first processed that her brother died gaining his powers. (And pain isn't always physical)

Is this anything? I don't know, I just like your stuff and my brain spawned this somehow.

(Heheheh, ty for this, it gives me an opportunity to introduce another one of my headcanons for my dpxdc lore)

Jazz was wracked with shivers. Jason helpfully lended his hand for her to bite as she sobbed through the pain. As she ground her teeth deep into his skin, Jason winced and inwardly thanked the lord that he wore gloves, otherwise losing a chunk of his skin wouldn't have mattered so much as compared to the possible infection.

She curled into him and whimpered, biting down again and Jason held her lightly, careful not to touch her too much despite how much he wanted to.

The pain of being beaten, of being tortured, of being hit by a crowbar over and over meant that touch would not be welcomed.

He couldn't help but whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Princess," into her hair as she sobbed again, trembling hard and jerking every once in a while as the phantom pain of broken bones overtook her.

Then she gave a scream and her entire body gave a startling jolt as her jaw locked in place, teeth grinding down onto his hand and Jason clenched his teeth as well, grimacing from the pain.

And eventually, everything stopped and Jazz slumped over into his embrace, shivering as she let go of his poor, abused hand. Jason carefully hugged her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

She did not react, still beyond the faint trembling of her limbs.

"Jazz?" He asked carefully. "You alright?"

".... I feel so numb... I think this was when you died. How old were you?" She eventually croaked, coughing as she lifted her head and blinked away tears.

Jason carefully wiped the wet droplets streaming down her face. "I was 15."

Jazz was silent for a moment before she said, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Not your fault, Princess."

She sniffled and lifted a hand to place over his. She nuzzled her cheek into his palm and said in a very soft voice, "Take deep breaths, dearest. Something happened to me at 16."

Jason blinked, opening his mouth to speak when he suddenly felt his heart rate pick up speed. He froze as the panic within him rose sharply, his blood freezing inside of his veins as his stomach dropped into his feet. He felt his vision blurring and his mouth drying as every cell within him began to rebel against his body.

Bile rose up in his throat and he barely held it down, blinking away the sudden tears.

What was this?!

His breaths came out fast and quick, his mind spinning. The panic came fast and hard, like a sucker punch to the throat and he gagged again.

Worse still, his limbs began to tremble and his appendages started to go numb from the sheer amount of fear he felt, as if he met his worst enemy and started seeing Death.

His hands began to feel wet and he knew that whatever Jazz had gone through at 16, it was a traumatic event. Maybe not like his, not as physically painful or ending in his death, but whatever it was, he recognized the feeling on his hands.

It was blood.

When it was done and over with and they both felt numb, Jason mumbled, "What was that?"

Jazz was quiet for a long while. Then she began rubbing his back as she spoke in an oddly steady tone.

"That was the day I killed my parents to save Danny."

[binniesbooks]

OKAY SO HERES MY THREESOME WITH TAEJUN THOUGHTS HIHIHI im just gonna leave it here.. eudjsjsjs

Meandom!taehyun x inoccentSub!Reader x SoftDom!yeonjun

Scenario is, you were new to ur new work, everyone us friendly to you and kind and they kept on telling u to NOT mess witn Taehyun and Yeonjun because they said that theyre "mean" as fuck, you on the other hand believe that and ofc ur kinda scared. You accidentally bumped into them because u were rushing since u were late making their paperwork fall. Reader thought they were mean n shit but it was the opposite..(led to her thinking theyre not so mean) Taejun had to "repay" reader since she helped them. They eventually went to Taehyun's hotel room near their workplace (in Okada manila charot HAHAHAHHAJ)

The rest is yours to write na 💋 its up to you what happens next hehehehe (include fingering PLEAKSEERKAIJSIAJDJS and size kink since reader is goddamn small next to them)

• TAEHYUN'S GAME, YEONJUN'S HEART

TXT 019 .F05 2024

wc 5k

pairings officeworker! Taehyun x newlyhired! reader x officeworker! Yeonjun

warnings threesome, innocent sub! reader, mean dom! Taehyun, soft dom! Yeonjun, drinking, forced drinking, favouritism, sirk kink (Taehyun), restraining, choking kink, teasing/edging (f. receiving), fingering, pet names, praising/degradation, marking, slight nipple play, oral sex (reader and Yeonjun receiving) squirting, overstimulation, protected sex (Yeonjun), unprotected sex (Taehyun), cumming inside, breeding, back scratching, Yeonjun talks reader through it, Taehyun practically shoves reader's face on the bed, hair pulling, some after care (+anything I've missed)

faye's note aaaa my second work that includes threesome! Now that i notice, i think this is the first fic i wrote with so many warnings??!?! And also I forgot something! I unconsciously neglected the "size kink" oh nooo :(( aggkgjndns

+ I'm sorry for not uploading for almost two weeks now, I don't feel really good and has no motivation at all :(( I'll get back to it once i feel okay! For now, I'll just drop this one ;))

It was your first week at the new job, and your excitement was palpable . You had spent a couple of months just looking for a decent job as a fresh graduate. And luckily, you got accepted by this company.

When you first entered the building, curious eyes were immediately bestowed upon you, probably because you were a new hire, you told yourself. However, some of them are considerate enough to smile and greet you. A few even asked you for your department and helped guide you to your assigned floor . They led you to the department heads office and wished you good luck.

A shiny nameplate on the table caught your eyes as you stepped inside the room . "Department Head, Choi Soobin," you muttered.

"I'm the newly hired employee, Y/n, " you bowed.

"Nice to meet you, let's get you started on your work, is that fine with you?" he asked, smiling sweetly.

You nodded and quickly followed behind him. He gave you a quick tour around the floor, letting you be familiar with the facilities available and where to find the equipment you might need at some point. He called everyone's attention and introduced you to them. He assigned one of the Team Leaders to adopt you to his team. You thanked the department head for the tour and watched him close the door behind you after he wished you good luck.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Beomgyu," the tall guy smiled, reaching a hand out.

"Nice to meet you too, I'm y/n, I'll be in your care," you said, shaking hands with him.

"There's an empty desk beside Kai, why don't you have it?" he exclaimed, throwing a glance toward said guy who was now waving his hands, in which you happily waved back.

When you sat down on your table, the office buzzed with activity once again, laughter echoing from different corners, but one thing stuck out amidst all the friendly banter: the ominous warnings about Taehyun and Yeonjun. It seemed everyone had a story about how mean they were, and with each retelling, your apprehension grew.

"Seriously, just stay away from them," Kai said over lunch that day. "They're not just grumpy, they can be downright ruthless!"

You nodded, feeling a mix of trepidation and curiosity. What kind of people could inspire such fear? Were they brooding giants lurking in the shadows, waiting for an unsuspecting newcomer to unleash their wrath upon?

"Uhm, can I ask something?" you whispered after drinking some water. Kai only nodded at you whilst chewing his food.

"I... I can't see any other female workers here on our floor," you asked confusedly.

Kai swallowed before answering, "The reason I'm a bit shocked you were hired."

Your brows knitted, "What do you mean?"

"Taehyun and Yeonjun. They were known for not accepting women in this department."

"Do you think I was hired out of mistake?"

Kai shrugged. He himself doesn't know the answer to that either. He just heard rumors about the dynamics of the duo when he first started working here.

As the week progressed, you navigated your way through introductions, team meetings, and projects, always keeping a wary eye on the far side of the office—where Taehyun and Yeonjun's desks sat. They seemed to exude an air of confidence that was both intimidating and intriguing.

They were actually best friends who stood side by side to make their dream company possible.

Then, the day came when you were running late for the first time. You overslept because of exhaustion from yesterday night's team dinner as a celebration for a successful project. Your morning had spiraled into chaos—traffic jams, spilled coffee, and a misplaced report. With no time to spare, you hurried through the office, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. As fate would have it, in your rushed state, you turned a corner sharply and collided with both men , the files they were holding scattering across the floor.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! ” You gasped, quickly bending down to help gather the papers that fell on the freshly mopped floor, staining the documents wet. A wave of dread washed over you as you braced for their reaction, expecting sharp glares and snarky comments.

Instead, you were met with surprised but soft expressions. “It’s okay,” the one with sparkling eyes said, retrieving his own pile of papers. “No harm done. We're all fine. Glad you didn't slip; be careful next time though,” the other one added with a chuckle. “You must be the new employee here. Accident happens. No worries!”

Your heart raced, not quite able to process the kindness in their voices. You glanced up at them and noted the playful glint in their eyes as they exchanged a look that seemed more amused than annoyed.

“I really didn’t mean to, I was late and—”

“Don’t work yourself up over it, I'm Yeonjun, by the way,” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone light. “It happens.”

"S-sorry," you bowed.

As you helped pick up the last few pages, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe the rumors were just that—rumors. They were far from the mean monsters everyone warned you about. Instead, they were... normal. Friendly, even.

After everything was gathered, you managed to compose yourself, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “Thanks for being so understanding, I'd send the files over later, I'll finish this quickly. I just need to encode these again, right?" You blabbered.

"You know, it's not that big of a deal."

"I insist, I'm really sorry," you bowed again, eyes tightly shut.

Yeonjun sighs before looking at Taehyun, "Okay then, but don't rush, that's not an urgent document."

Taehyun tapped your shoulder before walking past against you. You turned around to follow them with your gaze, but you were snapped back to your senses when your phone rang.

Quickly pulling it out of your pocket, you answered the phone while you ran across the hall. Kai called, asking if you were going to work or not. Harshly pushing the door open, your fellow workers snapped their heads towards you. You bowed down out of embarrassment and scrambled your way to your desk, mentally punching yourself for arriving 6 minutes late.

Kai watched you with confusion when he saw you carrying wet documents. "What are those?" he fired.

"Uhm, I bumped with them and knocked their paperwork on the freshly mopped floor," you sighed. Kai gasped and started to check you, whether you were hurt by them or punished, or whatever.

"Kai, calm down. They're not that bad. They even told me not to take care of this, but I just insisted. I can't just leave them be, besides, I only need to encode a few pages," you explained, placing your hand on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you're fine," he sighed.

You were about to utter another word when Beomgyu knocked between you and Kai's desk. "Get to work, fellas."

During lunch time, a knock on the door caught Yeonjun and Taehyun's attention.

"Come in!"

"Hi, sir. I uhm... just wanted to give these files," you meekly whispered after noticing they were busy with their desk stacked with documents. You slowly walked towards them, as you handed the document to Taehyun.

"Sorry, Sir, I was really in a hurry earlier," you bowed for the nth time.

“Well, you know, you knocked our papers down," Taehyun started, making you nervous with how his voice announced authority. "And still helped us, although you're running late. It’s only fair we find a way to repay you ,” he added, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Your eyes widened on the other hand. "M-me?"

Before you could add another word, Yeonjun chimed in, “How about we grab dinner after work? We owe you one for saving our precious documents.”

Your stomach fluttered nervously. Dinner with them? The ones everyone warned you about? “Um, sure, I guess...” You hesitated, but the sincerity in Taehyun's and Yeonjun’s eyes was disarming.

As the workday came to an end, you found yourself walking alongside them, few eyes watching the three of you, making you lower your head, the earlier tension fading with each step. They led you to Taehyun's hotel room nearby—their excuse for a quick bite without venturing far. The atmosphere felt different outside the office. They were relaxed, joking about the day’s mishaps, their initial ‘mean' personas melting away into genuine smiles and laughter.

Inside the room, they ordered in some takeout, the three of you settling on the small couch, the mood shifting into something cozy and lighthearted. They shared stories about their own awkward first days at work as boss, and you found yourself laughing along, the earlier wariness dissipating entirely.

"Sir, I-"

"You can drop the sir when we're outside," Yeonjun chuckles after hearing you say it again.

“Uhm, you know,” you said thoughtfully, “I almost believed everyone when they said you were mean.”

Taehyun shot you a teasing look. “Hyung, I guess we need a better team in the company.”

You laughed, realizing how wrong you'd been about them. As the evening unfolded, it turned into an unexpected revelation: their so-called ‘mean' personalities were just a facade—a guise that hide how wonderfully engaging and human they really were.

Or maybe not, actually.

The plates cleared, and the laughter lingered, a delightful surprise wrapped in newfound friendships. It was, without a doubt, the best decision to bump into them that day, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for that little misstep. "Guess the rumors don’t always tell the whole story," you mused, a smile playing on your lips, feeling tipsy as you swirled the liquor in the glass Taehyun handed.

However, as the time ticked by, you felt a sudden change in the air. Taehyun exuded an aura of confidence that was almost suffocating. He had piercing eyes that could see right through you, a smirk that spoke of his power over others, and an intensity that left you both intrigued and terrified. Yeonjun, on the other hand, was softer, with a gentle demeanor and a disarming smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. You found yourself drawn to the difference they represented—one who could command and control , the other who offered warmth and reassurance.

The trio of you soon fell into a deeper conversation about your personal lives, like your relationship and sex life, and you could feel the tension in the air, an electricity that crackled at your fingertips. Taehyun’s gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, making your heart race. You tried to hide your blush but to no avail.

As the night progressed, the energy shifted. Taehyun leaned closer, his voice low and authoritative. “You’re interesting. I can see how innocent you are, how much you crave... experience.” His words sent shivers down your spine, excitement mixed with apprehension.

Yeonjun caught the look on your face, his expression softening as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to be curious. Just remember, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” His voice was soothing, a balm against Taehyun’s unpredictable nature.

You were torn between the two of them—the thrill of Taehyun’s dominance and the safety that Yeonjun offered. The night spiraled into a whirlwind of laughter, flirtation, and unspoken desires.

"Come here," Taehyun ordered, tapping his lap.

You hesitated, looking back at Yeonjun, who was currently leaning his head on the couch. He peered over you, nodding a little and giving you a subtle smile.

"Sorry, I shouldn't," you refused, making Taehyun frown a little.

"Aren't you wondering why you're the only girl employee on our floor? And that your workload was not that heavy compared to others?" Taehyun said, loosening his neck tie.

Then you remembered how early you could clock out in the afternoon, leaving Kai and the others for approximately 2 more hours. And how Kai's desk was always stuffed with towering paperwork compared to you, who has only a few documents that could be counted on the fingers of a single hand.

"That, I... I was actually wondering about that," you muttered, gulping at the scene of how Taehyun was slowly exposing his neck.

"Yeonjun hyung was eyeing you from the very start, sweetheart," he said, placing his arm above the couch. "Hyung hired you because you were his favorite. The apple of his eye. Now, come here."

You looked at Yeonjun once again, he flashed you a playful smirk. You stood up, walking over to Taehyun who was sitting across from you. You were just like a tree standing in front of him, clutching onto your mini skirt when Taehyun looked up at you and tilted his head. "Sit," he motioned again.

You bit down on your lip as you carefully sat on his lap sideways. The buzz that the liquor gave you made your brain hazy. You felt a big hand creep around your waist, making your cheeks burn.

"How does it feel? Being Hyung's favorite among the crowd of ladies who tried to file an application?"

"I...I have no idea..." You whispered below your breath, trying to calm yourself from how he was gently massaging your side.

"Hyung, can you look at her? She seems to love how softly you look at her," Taehyun said to the older. Yeonjun's gaze returned towards you on Taehyun's lap and rolled his sleeves up , smiling at you once again, making you feel at ease. He basks in the obvious trust you place in him.

Taehyun turned you around, your back flushed against his chest, making you face Yeonjun. He swiftly pulled his necktie and tied both of your wrists. You were shocked at his sudden action, craning your neck to try and look at him, "Sir--"

"Fuck yes, call me that," he chuckled.

"Taehyun, let her breathe," Yeonjun mutters, picking up the bottle of liquor.

With your hands tied behind your back and Taehyun's hand around your waist, Yeonjun stood in front of you, holding up your chin and a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Sweetie, you don't hate me, right? Nor Taehyun? You won't hate either of us, yeah?"

You shook your head, looking up at him with such soft, pleading eyes. Maybe it's the way Yeonjun looks at you that makes you comfortable, and makes you think that whatever happens inside this very room, you would gladly keep a secret and would dearly hold as a good memory.

"Good girl, I knew I found the one when I laid my eyes on you," he smiled, pressing his thumb against your lower lip.

"Open your mouth, pretty."

You gladly obliged as your eyes followed the bottle he was holding until it was just above your lips. The liquor trickled to your mouth as Yeonjun slowly poured it. Taehyun's hand crept up to your neck, giving your throat a light squeeze. You could hardly swallow, making the liquid spill from your tiny mouth, soiling your white shirt.

"Good girl. Such a good girl," Yeonjun whispered before tossing the empty bottle on the couch. He lowered his head to give you a kiss. The once soft kiss turned into a messy one when Taehyun felt a burning sensation in his chest, tightening his grip on your throat. You panicked as you squirmed above him.

Yeonjun pulled away, and Taehyun's grip loosened, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you as you gasped for air, eyes teary from being suddenly robbed out of oxygen.

"Go easy, Tae. We don't want her to get hurt," Yeonjun chuckled, sitting back down across Taehyun.

Taehyun muttered a soft "sorry, sweetheart," before wrapping his arms around your body and slowly unbuttoning your shirt. You felt weak underneath his touch. Taehyun then hiked your mini skirt up to your waist, exposing your wet underwear.

""Hyung," he called, spreading your legs open. "Look at her."

Taehyun slipped his finger inside your underwear, toying with your clit, making your body shiver.

His finger teased your entrance before withdrawing it again. You gasped loudly when he finally slips his finger inside you.

“Please,” you muttered, making the two males chuckle as they regard your pitiful state.

“So dumb from just a mere finger,” Taehyun comments as he adds another finger.

Your head was spinning from the pleasure. He moves skillfully, pressing on parts that could easily send you reeling. Your eyes shut tightly as you clutched on the hem of your shirt, bucking your hips, seeking for more.

Taehyun curled his fingers inside you, scissoring them whenever you stayed quiet for too long, making you moan and whimper just from his fingers.

“W-wanna cum, please,” you begged.

But Taehyun didn’t want you to cum yet, completely withdrawing his hand and licking his fingers.

You felt your face turn hot, and tried to hide in the crook of Taehyun's neck. You even heard Yeonjun chuckle, making you even more embarrassed.

"Look at her shying away. Let's go to the bed," Taehyun announced. He lets you stand up on your own, "Follow Yeonjun hyung, I'll be there in a minute."

You followed Yeonjun inside the bedroom, hands still tied behind your back.

"Does your hand hurt?" Yeonjun asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"A little," you whispered, feeling the light buzz in your head, blinking the pain away.

"C'mere, let me help you." You walked closer to him, turning around just when you were standing in front of him. Yeonjun untied your hands and turned you around to face him.

"Sorry," he whispered, kissing your wrists, looking up at you. You shook your head and smiled.

"Having your sweet time with the one who favors you most?" Your head snapped towards the door. Taehyun just walked in, holding his belt in his hand, shirtless. Yeonjun stood up, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead before heading straight to the window, closing the curtain.

Taehyun sat on the bed where Yeonjun was earlier. "You ready?" he chuckled, abs flexing.

Before you could even answer, you felt a hand wrapping around your waist and a chin placed on your shoulder. "Baby, are you scared? He's just usually like that," Yeonjun whispered.

"Don't scare her, Tae. Be gentle." The younger nodded, pushing his hair back as he grabbed both of your hands and placed them on his shoulder.

"Now, let's take this off, yea?" Yeonjun tugged at your white button-up shirt, planting a soft kiss to your shoulder, making you shiver.

"Y-yeonjun," you whispered. He hummed back, lightly biting your neck, hands busy on your skirt. Your nails dig into Taehyun's shoulder, making him wince.

Your skirt pooled by your feet. Taehyun grabbed your waist and turned you around, making you sit on his lap again.

His fingers traced the marks Yeonjun left on your shoulder. And without much to do, he latched his lips on your neck, hands fumbling to unclasp your bra. Yeonjun was just standing in front of you, hands in his pocket, a subtle smile playing on his lips. However, his bulge didn't escape your sight.

You threw your head back against Taehyun's shoulder when you felt his cold fingers pinch your nipples.

"S-sir."

"Hyung, help her feel more," Taehyun spoke.

The once overwhelming feeling of Taehyun's hand against your body got severe when you saw Yeonjun kneel in front of you, spreading your legs, pulling at the tiny cloth that barely covered you.

"Now be a good girl for us, won't you?" Taehyun murmurs as he kisses your temple.

Your hand reached back to tangle in Taehyun's hair for the purpose of keeping balance. However, your grip tightened when Yeonjun licked a stripe along your wet folds, making you let out an almost pornographic moan.

Your back arched and your toes curled when he did it again, along with Taehyun pulling and pinching your nipples.

"Mmpph! Please!" You bucked your hips, wanting more from Yeonjun.

"Wow, you look so eager, do you really have no experience?" Taehyun taunts before latching his mouth onto your neck.

Your body felt scorching hot. Strings of pleas, moans, and curses came from your mouth as Yeonjun skillfully ate you out. His plump lips kissing your folds from time to time, his tongue reaching every spot you never knew you had. Your hand flew over to Yeonjun's head as you tried to push him away.

"W-wait.. wait... Sir... Wait I-i, stop, stop please... Wait--"

Your legs were shaking when he pulled away, mouth wet with your arousal and dripping with the clear liquid that gushed out from you.

You whined as a few more spurts of liquid came out of you. "He ate you that good?" Taehyun scoffed, his hand crept down and touched your clit, making you whimper and shiver from the overstimulation. "Squirting from being eaten, how dirty," he added.

You wanted to get off Taehyun to curl up your body, but your legs relentlessly shook when he made you squirt once again with just his finger toying with your clit. Your whimpers and whines made him chuckle. Your body was trembling above him. "Virgin women are so easy," he mocked before carrying you and laying you down on the bed.

"Don't worry, you're doing so good, darling," Yeonjun cooed as he combed his fingers through your hair.

They basically took you under their wings, guiding you through the intricacies of your desires. It was a delicate dance; Taehyun pushed your boundaries, challenging you to confront your fears while Yeonjun was there to catch you when you stumbled.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their gaze on you. You wanted to say something, to explore the thrill of submission with Taehyun, but a part of you needed the reassurance Yeonjun provided.

You didn't want to admit it, but whatever this is that they were doing to you, you were pretty sure you weren't going to be mad. If anything, you were actually enjoying this. Because after living your life for more than 2 decades, you finally get to experience getting laid. With the two of your hot bosses at that.

Unzipping his pants, Yeonjun positioned himself against your throbbing core. Slipping a thin rubber over his shaft, he pumped himself a few times before prodding in your tiny hole.

"You'd take me well, baby, just calm down," he whispered, calming you down. He pulled your legs above his thighs before he slowly pushed in.

"Baby, relax," he muttered. "I can't push further if you don't."

Yeonjun hovers above you, grabbing your arms to wrap them on his shoulder. "Hold onto me."

Your nails dug onto his shoulders the moment he slowly pushed inside. Your back comically arched, and your mouth gaped at how stretched you felt. You pulled Yeonjun closer to your body, seeking assurance and warmth.

"Y-yeonjun, t-too much," you whimpered.

"Hush baby, I'm here. You're taking me so well, don't worry—you're so tight though," he grunts.

You gently tapped his shoulder. "J-jjun, too m-much, c-can't," you muttered, tears threatening to spill from your doe eyes.

"Can't, but you're holding onto him so tight? You aren't even pushing him away. You're such an easy girl, aren't ya?" Taehyun snickered. You peered over him, sitting on the couch just beside the bed, slowly palming himself.

"Now, now, Taehyun, she's about to cry, don't be like that," Yeonjun chuckled, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking his arms under your body, picking you up, and letting your head lay on the pillow. His thumb slowly rubbed your cheeks, trying to ease away the pain. "Come on, baby, look at me, don't you cry now, you're safe," he assured and you nod at him.

His pace started to pick up, his gentle thrust becoming a little rough, causing your breasts to jiggle. Your whimpers drowned his silent grunts. His thrusts becoming sloppier. Yeonjun leaned his forehead against yours, biting his lower lip, holding back his moans. "So close, h-hold on for a little longer, hm?" he hummed, kissing your nose.

"Baby... Hold on for a little longer for... Fuck... For me, yea?" His hips started to stutter, you just nodded at him, mind hazy, eyes blurry.

"C-close too. Please, please, please, more, please, Yeonjun.." you gasped, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts, Taehyun, who was watching the both of you long forgotten. His arms started to shake, almost giving out as he tried to hold his body up. His forehead still on yours, breath shaky and panting.

With one last thrust, the knot inside his stomach erupted. His brows knitted together, eyes tightly shut, mouth parted, making foggy huffs, and his arms finally gave out as he thrusted a few more times, slowly, to let you ride out your high with him.

"Fuck, you're so good, baby. You did well," he huffed, kissing your flushed cheeks. You both winced when he finally pulled away. Yeonjun picked you up, hugging your trembling body as he disposed of the used condom.

"One more, okay? You can still do it, right?" he whispered, caressing your back.

"Y-yeah, I think I s-still can," you answered, breathing unsteady.

"Tae, your turn, don't be too hard," he smiled over at the younger male.

With that, Taehyun took the lead, guiding you into a world filled with pleasure and pain, while Yeonjun remained close, always within reach, ensuring your comfort and safety.

Yeonjun was just sitting on the edge of the bed, gently squeezing your hand, while Taehyun had you face down on the bed and ass up for him.

"Maybe Yeonjun was just a little too sweet towards you, wasn’t he?" Taehyun said, lining up against your spent hole. Your eyes met Yeonjun's, and he gave you a sweet, assuring smile.

Unlike Yeonjun, Taehyun was a bit more on the longer side. Yeonjun's was thick, could barely move inside you, but Taehyun's was longer.

"Stop moving, I'm not even halfway in," he snarled, landing a spank on your ass, causing you to yelp.

"T-Taehyun, hurts," you cried.

"That's not my name."

"S-sir..."

"That's more like it. Now behave," he said before pushing all the way in.

"Fucking tight."

You felt every vein and curve of his cock, he didn't even waste his time using protection and just hit it raw. You felt his hand on your throat. Almost making you gag from the sensation. Fat tears rolling down your eyes, Yeonjun's thumb trying to wipe them away.

"J-jun--"

"It's okay, baby. You'll feel better soon, I promise, hush now," he said softly, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You yelped when Taehyun tugged your hair, pulling you flushed against his chest. "Do you know what I love about fucking innocent virgins?" he growled against your ears. "They’re fucking tight and keep on clenching around my cock just like you whenever I degrade them."

"Now do me a favor before I ruin you. Suck him." Taehyun harshly lets you go. You landed on Yeonjun's lap, his zipper still open from earlier. You looked up at him, and his eyes were almost gone from how he was smiling at you.

"Let's get your mouth to work, hm?"

"If you can't make him cum, I won't let you cum either," Taehyun taunts, hips still unmoving, but his cock was throbbing inside you.

You pulled Yeonjun's boxers down, exposing his cock still wet from your arousal. "D-don't know how, n-never done this," you whispered to Yeonjun, lips pouting.

"I'll help you, just do what he says, okay?"

You nodded, kissing his tip.

"Taehyun, move now, she's starting," Yeonjun uttered to the younger one, which the younger did, thrusting slowly inside you.

Yeonjun cupped your face. "Lick it."

Your tongue licked his tip, unskilled. Yet he grunts. Yeonjun guided you on what you should do, which you carefully followed. You succeeded in making him let out a moan for a few times. Just when you managed to take him whole in your mouth, your head was pushed down onto his cock. But, it wasn't Yeonjun.

Taehyun practically rammed inside you, even pushed your head on Yeonjun's cock, making you gag around the other male.

"Shit, Taehyun, wait-- y/n." Yeonjun was shaking, he doesn't even know who to push at this point, you or Taehyun.

"Fuck," the other male grunted behind you, pressing his hips further against your ass.

You were clawing on the sheets, tears rolled down your cheeks once again, continuously gagging on Yeonjun's cock.

"Y/n, wait, stop-- fuck!" Yeonjun spilled inside your throat, abs clenching as his orgasm washed over him. On the other hand, Taehyun finally let go of your head, allowing you to pull away as his thrusts became a little uneven.

Yeonjun wiped your tears and your mouth, muttering a soft apology as he tries to make you feel relaxed. "A bit more, I know you can endure it," he says, rubbing the side of your lips, letting you moan and whimper from how Taehyun rams inside of you.

With a final push, Taehyun finally came undone. He didn't pull out yet, making sure he filled you to the brim.

"Such a good girl, taking a load of cum," he chuckled, landing another slap on your ass, making you quiver.

You felt his cum flow out of you when he pulled away. Your body ached so much that you didn't even know you already fell asleep.

By the time the sun began to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, you lay between them, breathless and utterly satisfied. You felt clean though, maybe they cleaned you up and took care of you last night. You were facing Taehyun, his arm draped over your waist, his light snores and peaceful look while he was asleep made you chuckle, "What a facade," you muttered. Yeonjun, on the other hand, has his face against your back, his warm breath fanning your bare skin.

In that moment, surrounded by the gentle warmth of Yeonjun and the exhilarating presence of Taehyun, you realized that your heart craves not just dominance or softness, but a balance of both, a dance between innocence and experience, yielding and power.

@binniesbooks 2024

[sordidmusings]

mihawk strikes me as the type to hide any hickies that he got but admire them in private, shanks would shamelessly show them off in public, while robin is more casual and doesn't get embarrassed if someone points it out and says point blank that she made out with you and it was very nice (sanji is crying).

YOURE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Also that ending is sENDING ME DJFJFJFJFFK if you’re afab then Sanji would definitely be stuck struggling if those were tears of joy for knowing it happened or tears of pain that he’ll never be a part of it. Probably more of the latter. If you’re amab then those are 100% grade A, bonafide Tears of Despair 💀

Mihawk, Shanks, and Robin Hickey Headcanons

Thinking about the Mihawk, you’d have to be Smart about where you put those hickies (thighs thighs thighs-) since he’s always Tits Out and Collar POPPED. I think if he showed up with a fully buttoned shirt or turtleneck it would be more suspicious than him saying the bruises were from training 💀 (I mean maybe it was true - you could’ve been training him to let you fully take charge for once 🤷🏼‍♀️). The thought of him admiring them is what really grabs me in this. I like to think the betrayal that Oda hints at in Mihawk’s background is related to a past love (many good daydreams from this lol) so him healing enough from that to take the time to admire a mark of intimacy?? Feel satisfaction looking at a physical reminder that you belong to each other?? Find comfort in being your partner and enjoying being wanted and owned by you??? Happy brain 🫠🫠🫠

Shanks being the resident manwhore is Gospel dude and I fuckin LOVE him for that 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 here for the energy and the good times lol I imagine that he just showed them first cuz he didn’t care to hide them. Why would it matter?? It’s obvious he’s a man with a large appetite for debauchery both light and heavy and they’re all adults on the ship so there’s no problem. Then he found he enjoyed all the jokes, whether in his favor or at his expense, whenever his crew caught a peep of an exceptionally dark or large one or an excessive art project coloring his neck and chest. But once he got with you he enjoyed it even more. He was proud edging on smug whenever others saw the marks you’ve left on him. He got to have you and they didn’t. Better yet they also got to see just how much you enjoy him. Why would he ever hide that??

R O B I N 😩 I HAVE A NEED OKOK AND OML I WAS CACKLING AT THE “and it was very nice” HDHFHFJD SO HER AND SO FUNNY 💀💀💀 imagine that conversation being how the crew finds out you’re together. They just thought you were Close Friends. And I mean they’re not wrong, there’s just some extra activities. And maybe a new type of devotion to go along with the friend one. Whoopsies 🤷🏼‍♀️. Honestly maybe even extra points if it’s also the convo where you get together because the making out just kind of Happened and you’ve been agonizing over the “what does it mEAN???” and “how do I talk to her about this???” Then she’s just like “yeah we kissed and it was great :)”. Oh so this isn’t a big secret?? She’s not ashamed?? It was great 👀 over the howls of Sanji you manage to ask her to meet with you after breakfast for a convo (and more time enjoying some “very nice” activities)

Complete side note on Robin - since sensation but not wounds seem to transfer from her copies and extra limbs/etc. that would be insanely convenient to go buck wild while also being able to be completely discrete. Of course you don’t get the same advantage 😔 which I’m sure she’d exploit to have fun watching you react to them being pointed out by the loud mouthed captain like every time (“Luffy I tOLD you already - we weren’t leaving you out of sparring!”) or maybe a nosy navigator heheheh

And on an angstier note, having gone so so so long without love, I bet physical reminders of any kind help her feel like it’s real and that’s she’s not just going to wake up and find out it was all a dream. There’s also a promise in visible proofs of love, sometimes even ones as ~scandalous~ as hickies, that you want that love and you’re proud of that love. I think Robin would find a lot of solace in anything that helps her know you’re happy and proud to love her.

Really enjoying these and may do some little vignettes of them! Undecided if I wanna throw some others in there 🤔 maybe if any Grabs Me while I think more about it haha or if anyone is possibly interested 🤷🏼‍♀️

Thank you for sending in your thoughts dear anon❣️I’ve had so much fun with them!!!! Sending love and hugs 🤍🤍🤍

Part of my little celebration!

[withleeknow]

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 06.05.2024]

[stariez-artz]

Hello there couldn’t help but see on everywhere there is the The gaslight district stuff yet soooooo….tickle HCS for the characters?

I have some for Breadhead and Mud but Mel and Kevin are still in the works. So that’ll hopefully do for now.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

🚬🃏Mud🃏🚬

lee: 40% ler: 60%

Lee:

“Me? Ticklish? Pfft-! Y’right mate..” (He’s a lying dick)

WILL deny he’s ticklish with his entire undead being

Curses his lee out when he gets tickled

Worst spots are his underarms, waist and backs of the knees

“STAHAHAHAHAP! NAHAT THE- NOT THE KNEHEHEHEHEES-!!”

Mainly gets tickled by Mel for fun, Kevin to get him to shut up, and Breadhead because.. well, it’s Breadhead, what do we expect?

The type of guy to flip you off once you stop tickling him

Doesn’t necessarily hate being tickled, but he doesn’t like it either

His laughs is very wheezy (sometimes he’ll snort depending on the spot)

If caught off guard, he’ll shriek a bit

Will hold onto you the whole time if he trusts you well enough (but he’ll keep hitting his fist against your back)

“I CAHAHAN’T-!” “Can’t what, huh?” “SHUT UHUHUHUP!” “Whatever you say, Muddie!” “DOHON’T CALL ME THAHAHAT!!”

Pushes at you without really intending to move you

Poking up and down his sides FLOORS him

Ler:

The type of guy to anticipate you before tickling you

“Whaaaaat? I’m not doin’ nothin’!”

Usually likes tickling someone just to hear any squeals or snorts from them

Would most definitely tickle Kevin back in the day since he’s older

“What? Not here, eh? Then how ‘bout here? Maybe here? Or even here!” While constantly switching between spots

The type to use teases like “tktktktktktk!!” Or “I’m gonna getcha! Oh, I’m gonna getcha!!” To be a bastard

If someone takes something from him and keeps it out of his reach, he goes for their worst spot to get them to drop it (his hat or wallet for example)

“C’mon then, mate! Hand it over! I can keep this up as long as I have to”

Cheer up tickles are only reserved for people he genuinely cares about

Doesn’t use nibbling or raspberries cuz he doesn’t want the person he’s tickling to get uncomfortable

Dusts himself off after tickling someone as if he hasn’t been soaked in blood before

“Ah, fun, innit?” While the person he just tickled is glaring at him

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

🍞Breadhead🍞

lee: 80% ler: 20% Lee:

It takes him a moment to register the fact that he’s being tickled before slowly reacting with soft laughs

He doesn’t wanna hurt the person he’s getting tickled by, so instead of pushing them away, he scrunches up or curls up (depends if he’s sitting or standing)

His laugh is really low and soft, almost rumbly (+ the occasional hiccup)

“Hehehehe…! *hic* Nohohoho!”

Hides his face in his hands due to embarrassment when he gets tickled

Lives being complimented on little things like his laugh or something like that

“Aww, your laugh is so cute!” “Thahank yohohohou..!”

Gets tickled by Mel sometimes just to see her brother laugh

His worst spots are his palms, neck and belly

Squeezing his stomach gets a small squeak out of him

If he’s sitting down, he’ll kick his feet a bit

“Nooohohoho! Stohohop!” “You can always push me away if you don’t want me to continue, wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable” “Nohohoho..! It’s fuhuhun!” “You sure..?” “Mhmhhmhmh-!”

If he’s hugging someone and they run their hand along his back, he’ll flinch and start getting all giddy

Genuinely finds tickling fun and views it as a bonding experience

His laugh sounds kinda like goofy from Mickey Mouse

Ler:

Very, VERY gentle when tickling people so he doesn’t hurt them by accident

Constantly asks if you’re okay while tickling you

“I’m not hurting you right..?” “NohoHOHOHOHO!!”

Laughs with whoever he tickles

Doesn’t tease, just compliments

“Your smile’s nice..” “Thahahanks-?”

Him and Mel DEFINITELY have tickle fights occasionally (Mel usually wins cuz she knows how to get at her brother)

Likes using tickle hugs a LOT

If he’s tickling you and you squeal, snort or hiccup his eyes dilate so much that you’ll forget his eyes are red

Uses raspberries if whoever he’s tickling his comfortable with it

Hugs his lee as aftercare

“I didn’t go overboard right..?” “Noho.. no, no, you’re okay”

He definitely purrs sometimes to calm his lee down while hugging them

[angelsafa]

Hi guys so story abt me and my SP so you get entretained while I answer all your questions heh, and because you're like my friends now and I like to yap to you so:

Basically my bestfriend and I loove to go to this other class, let's say we are x grade class A and this class is C (this is how classes work here in my country).

So basically the people in that class is soo fun so we literally are spending more time there than in our own class, and we've like befriended a lot of them.

Okay, then, there's this guy which I never cared about, let's call him S. He has a friend which my bestie and I always jokingly argue with, and he was always there standing and staring like not saying anything.

So, sometimes we stay at that class's class instead of our own, for example they have P.E and we sneak there bcs who the hell wants to study maths or history. And this S we never actually talked to him. I think he was the only one of that class which we never really talked to.

Anyways, I like watching football sometimes, and in instagram there's this thing called notas which I do not know how to say it in english. I think ig notes?? Whatever basically I always like comment when my fav team wins or when there's some good score or whatever. Now S suddenly liked my note and my bestie's once.

We thought it was just normal like we shared the same opinion and stuff. Some weeks later my bestie and I are walking out of the school and we see this guy giving his gf snacks. We were just chilling and talking about it and stuff. I simply said "I wish I had a bf or a guy who likes me who gives me snacks after school too" like without thinking twice, a random tought you know. And guys. I tell you my bestie when she gets some random idea she does it and she doesn't give a fuck. She says, let's text S. Like out of nowhere. And I was laughing my ass off because I tought she was joking. So she goes, takes her phone and texts him saying: "Hey S my friend Safa wants sweets. If you could bring it to us soon we would appreciate that, thanks."

I was simply dying from laughter like what could I do? Besides, this guy has like a ton of followers and we tought he never answered or anything, so I didn't pay much attention to it.

Guys literally half an hour later he answers back. And that's when everything starts.

Basically from then my bestie and I started the jokes and the teasing and stuff. Like we talked to him three days consecutively just saying random stuff and teasing and demanding our sweets jokingly.

I really tought he is a fun guy. And when once when I got home after staying with my bestie he textes me. Like alone. Like knowing my bestie and I are not together. And well guys we start talking and he was really funny (in the sense that all we do is to swear at each other and making dark humor jokes), and everytime there was some football match we would start talking about it.

Now the thing is, recently I started liking this guy a bit but I didn't really payed much attention to it because he seems like a playboy. Turns out he only kissed one girl in his life and I know her and they're not together since april and stuff. And how did he tell me all of that? Because we were texting and I said: "Wait I have to go to do something I will be right back." And he said: "go and kiss other men?" with like this slight jelaous tone and I was laughing my ass off and I replied: "No, S, I dont do that. but i bet you do." and he was swearing with his life that he didn't and that he only kissed one girl in his life and stuff. Whatever that's not important but I love to overshare unimportant details guys.

Anyways we recently have been talking a lot more and stuff and he is funny so yep. He is not ugly either (my bestie doesn't think the same HAHAHA) and he is overall nice so yep, guess who is manifesting their SP being obsessed hehehehe? Yeah, me.

Now he cannot function through the day without texting me at least once and neither sleep without texting me a good night.

I LOVE LOA SO MUCH GUYSS MANIFESTING YOUR SP IS SO SO EASY AND FUN AND HEHE (i will make a post soon)

So that's all guys. Pls be patient with me if I am not answering your questions quickly, I like to answer the questions calmly and giving a lot of time to each one.

Anyways that's it guys. Im so happy you can't see my face AND BTW TODAY WE GOT OUR CLASSES JOINED TOGETHER AND WE TALKED A LOT AND HIS FRIENDS WERE SO NICE (even if they all looked like gengsters) AND I LAUGHED SO MUCH I LOVE MY LIFE

Lots lots lots of love,

Safa

[lyculuscaelus]

Ok now maybe imagine if it didn’t take too long for Odysseus to finish the oar quest as instructed by Teiresias, say, a year or two (maybe three but tops I swear) from when he sailed from Ithaca to the mainland and went all the way northwards, until he at last finished the ritual and then returned once more back to his homeland.

It wasn’t a woeful journey, this time—just receiving Xenia from different cities, meeting some old faces and new faces (cue Acarnan and Amphoterus sons of Alcmaeon in Acarnania; maybe catching up with his brother-in-law Alyzeus in the city of Alyzia; maybe visiting Amphilochus in Amphilochia cuz why not; maybe helping out a young Thesprotian prince Polypoetes son of Pheidon the deceased king in a war and having to sign an adoption contract), disguising as an old man, lying his way northward—“hey look I’m just a simple Cretan but I can tell you about Odysseus if you want” (turns out all those non-Homeric traditions are stories Odysseus in disguise told to those Epirotes along the way), maybe all the way to Buthrotum where Helenus and Andromache welcomed him unaware of his identity (as he yapped about how he was a Ciconian whose hometown Ismarus was destroyed by cruel Odysseus as he was brought along the way until getting marooned in Thrinacia and something something Phoenicians and stuff) as they traded stories and ended up lamenting the fall of Troy and talking shit on Odysseus—including Odysseus himself (“fun,” says Odysseus as he continues throwing slanders on himself, “now shall I tell you how he died by some guy named Telegonus, someone born to him on Aeaea though I didn’t see anything”), maybe reaching the land of Illyrians where he heard about their history from Cadmus’s arrival to the not-so-recent Epigonoi war (and all Odysseus can think about is his bestie), maybe finding his way past the Riphean Mountains to Hyperborea where he finally performed the ritual (I mean, no ship, no salt…sounds like it).

Then maybe he’s picking a path south-east to visit some old friends (*snaps* what did you say Nauplius has done again *picks up a rock* alr say it again), maybe traversing the rest of Greece from Thessaly (didn’t see you back in war—how are y’all faring, O so many sons of Heracles?) to Mycenae (your dad sends his regards from hell, Orestes) to Argos (wait where the heck is my Diomedes) to Sparta (Menelaus: hehehehe I knew you’d make it old buddy oh btw your son has your thighs) to Pylos where Nestor finally gave him a ship to go home cuz he had no oar left (Nestor: also Peisistratus my boy I know you want to go to Ithaca for some…*coughs* specific reasons so here’s the ship and you’re the captain).

Back to Ithaca! Telemachus celebrated Odysseus’s return with joy (and was surprised by Peisistratus’s arrival). During his father’s absence he had run the kingdom well—a good job continuing to reestablish the class of nobility in Cephalonia as Odysseus willed it. Then Odysseus found Penelope waiting at the olive tree, as she met his gaze and smiled—and the world was again back into shape, for Odysseus, the great craftsman.

And this time, Odysseus finally realized he was this old, this tired, after all the years of traveling. The world of wanderings, in the end, had become too much, too far away, for the man of twists and turns. Not even the world of reality could mend the scars left in his heart, a mind forever haunted by shadows of the past. But for now, a world of home would do—it’d be everything for him, really—just a man with his family, and the peaceful days he had long craved.

So he swore to stay, here by the side of his love ones, never again to be apart. So he stayed, for the rest of his life, till death in the coming days did them part…

He’d inherit his father’s farm after old Laërtes’s death, and teach Telemachus the art of gardening, to take care of all the grape vines, fig trees, pear trees, apple trees, and…olive trees. He’d sing his tales to the new generation of Ithacan children, mentoring them on the virtues of Xenia, of bravery, of love. And he’d go back to his old habit of carving, sculpting figurines out of wood—oh, but he’d make so many wonders—the monsters of legends (that he had seen), the faces of old acquaintances (that he would never forget), the images of gods (that he had stolen)…and he’d show them all to his family, and sometimes, to his people struck by curiosity.

Meanwhile, Telemachus would be so delighted to indulge a father who had long missed the chance to raise his own child, as a son who had never got the chance to make any childhood memory with his father. And so often would they roam around in the forests, catching up days forever lost to them both. Meanwhile, Penelope would be so enamored of her husband’s passion, as the one who knew his mind best (oh, what a blessing of homophrosyne). And so often would they pace around in the farm, chattering at length from the rosy-fingered Dawn till the star-filled night…

Maybe at some point, the memories would prove to be too heavy for the old king. Days and nights his family would find him whispering commands that went unheard, words of comfort that he no longer needed—or that he needed the most. All he saw were illusions of the horror he had once witnessed. All he heard were hallucinations of the Siren song he had once heard. Maybe after all these years, ptsd had finally caught up with him. Maybe it went even worse after Penelope’s passing…

Until one day, a stranger knocked the gate of Odysseus’s palace open.

Prince Telemachus offered him food—he politely refused, asking to meet the old king right away.

Odysseus came out, fixing his gaze on the visitor’s face—it seemed foreign, yet strangely familiar—it was as if he had known him so long ago, in a place he couldn’t quite name. But the stranger only moved forward, meeting Odysseus’s eyes.

“Come,” he said gently. “Time to join the rest of them…time to join her.”

And Odysseus knew.

Turning to his son, Odysseus muttered a few words of comfort. Somehow, Telemachus knew this to be a farewell—he embraced his father one last time, smiling in tears.

The prince of Ithaca watched the two of them walk away, to the sea where the stranger came from, as he suddenly leapt, spreading a pair of wings, carrying Odysseus off quickly. Realization struck him finally.

The stranger was none other than fearful Thanatos.

So this is the Death that comes to him from the sea, in such a gentle way.

[rosebud1770]

Do you have any Mud and/or Mel headcanons?

Hehehehe yes! I’ll be breaking this into two separate posts, but we’ll start with Mud!

-There isn’t someone who’s been around more in the Gaslight district then Mud. If there’s a job, he’s probably done it, at least once.

-Expert marksman, great shot. He’s spent eons practicing, and can even hit targets with eyes closed, as seen in the pilot.

-Trans! Not that anyone really remembers a time before he was Mud anymore, besides Ken. It’s a thing you’d have to frankly torture out of him, unless it’s Mel, as he has and wants to help her with her own gender.

-The “cool” Uncle, according to Mel. He’s far more willing to let the siblings get in danger, as it’s a intrinsic part of their life’s. He doesn’t understand Ken’s overprotective nature with Mel. If it was up to him, she would’ve been doing jobs for years.

-Great at sleight of hand and magic tricks. He’s adept at hiding Bullets in his throat, as well as coin tricks. He’s tried to teach Mel and Breadhead, but only Mel really picked anything up, and nothing beyond the most basic of motions.

-Ken’s second in command, the brothers have spent eons taking care of each others back, and it shows. In missions, they’re each others shadows, keeping targets off the other. Despite how frustrated they can get with each other, they both care deeply for another.

-Asides from Mel, he’s one of the only ones willing to stand up to Ken’s descions, a thing the Butcher bregrudingly respects, although he’d never admit it.

[peachysunrize]

SMOTHER | chapter 2

Summary: Every moment she spends in his presence makes her shake with anger, now more than ever with holding his hand in hers, bowing their heads to the king as the law changes. She would look back at her younger self, see the resentment she held for him in her eyes, and she still holds that hatred towards him, if not more, if not worse.

Aemond Targaryen returns to King’s Landing after three years from the end of the war he became the hero of, meeting his niece once again, and their tale begins.

Warnings: none

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an: hi hi hiii i apologize for taking so long to update... unfortunately life happened and i got caught up into my midterms(I still have a few more to go) but don't worry cuties, mama's got you I have my writing spark back so heheheh

comments are more than appreciated<333

-> series masterlist <-

-> ao3 link <-

“Fucking cunt—“

  “Father…” Saera groans, rubbing her head as her father tries to stand up on his feet with the help of a cane, “We knew he would be like this, please do not let him—“

  “I will kill him!” Aegon yells, throwing his cup of water across the room, making the maids yelp and dodge out of the way, clearing the room as the King’s anger bursts, “How dare he disrespect my wishes so easily?”

  “Your Grace, I believe—“

  “You had one job, Cregan!” Aegon spits the words out, his grip wobbling on the cane as he turns his head to his Hand, “You were supposed to bring him to me! Days have passed, and he’s been living under my roof without seeking me out when I told you to bring him to my chambers the moment he set foot inside the castle!”

  “We tried, Father. It is not our fault he is hard to find—“

  “I don’t care! I am the King, and he ought to listen to me!” His voice roars within the walls, making Saera shudder. “Drag him here if you must!”

  The last time she had seen him so angry was when Jaehaerys’ death had the entire castle shaking in grief. She remembers his screams and her mother’s cries, but the fury inside him made everything else fade away, and all everyone could hear were the sounds of stone breaking and the sobs of the King.

  “I will, Your Grace, but let us help you back on the bed—“

  “He is in my castle, and you wish to put me on the bed?” Aegon shouts, making Saera flinch slightly, rubbing her arms as she tries to calm her nerves before she can help her father, but with the way he is screaming and throwing his belongings across the room, she knows she won’t be able to do anything to stop his anger, “Get him here now! It is a demand from your king! Find him dead in Maegor’s tunnels, but bring him here so I can bury him with my bare hands!”

  “Maybe it would be wiser to let him come to you, Father.” Saera gently walks towards him, trying to grab under his arms and hold him up, but Aegon pushes her away, grunting in pain as he stands on his broken feet shakily. “Let us help you. The Maester advised you not to walk—“

  “Fuck the Maester!” Aegon wails with each step he takes towards the door, groaning and whining in pain, glaring at anyone who dares to come close to him, “Bring him to me, or I will crawl the way to his room!”

  Saera sighs, her shoulder slumping slightly as she crosses her arms over her belly, looking at Cregan for support — or anything that might help ease her nerves — but he is in a worse state than she is.

  She knows all of her father’s screams and demands will fall on deaf ears because the entire realm knows how the king’s brother is, yet it seems Aegon is unbothered by all the cries of his name, only seeking to walk to the door and bring Aemond here on his own.

  “My King, I don’t wish to upset you, but Prince Aemond is not an easy man to command—“

  “Same fucking words coming out of your month since the hour of the wolf!” Aegon grumbles, his grip shaking on the cane as he takes another determined step forward, “So I have been told. Then I will not command him , I will command the King’s guard to drop him on his knees before me!”

  “Perhaps it would be wiser to do so while you rest, Father.” Saera walks behind him, ensuring he is within arm’s reach if he stumbles. “There are many important things we should discuss with him, and you must be calm and collected for it to be done.”

  “I do not care. If I wish to speak to anyone at my court, I will do so, furious or not!” Aegon scoffs, taking another step forward, his cane barely holding him up, “Why are you still here, Lord Stark? Move and bring Aemond to me!”

  “I shall not leave you in such a mess, My King. Let the Prince come to you, he’s abandoned his family, surely he must be grieving—“

  “Grieving?” Aegon stops, his head snapping in Cregan’s direction, and the glare he gives him makes the Hand swallow harshly, “Aemond is not allowed to grieve, not after everything he has done. He doomed us from the moment he sat on Vhagar.”

  “All Lord Hand is trying to tell you is that we can not force an untamed dragon to bend. Let him have his moment, his… peace, so to say.” Saera says softly, moving to stand in front of her father, gently cupping his scarred cheek, “He is trying to show his authority by tormenting you. Do not let him win, not this time. You are the King, my King, his King, whether he likes it or not. You command this castle, everyone bows before you.”

  She watches as Aegon’s eyes dart around her face, until he sighs and reaches to rest his hands on top of hers over his cheek, seeking the remaining warmth of his wife through Saera.

  She can feel how he ponders over her words, but the silence makes her weary. She is not really used to her father being quiet; he’s always been a loud and noisy man compared to Prince Aemond, even in their youth, she could spot the difference between them.

  “No.” 

  It’s a curt answer, steady and very clear. He leaves no room for argument as his eyes harden once more, looking at Saera sternly to step aside and let him do as he pleases.

  “Yes, Father,” she says, her hand dropping from his face, and with a deep sigh, she pulls away from him, walking back towards Cregan, who is just as exhausted as she is. She turns his gaze to Lord Stark, giving him a tight-lipped smile, “What shall we do about him?”

-> READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3! <-

[solsticehymns]

TOO GOOD TO BE FAKE: CHAPTER 5

JAMES POTTER X F!READER

a/n: YAYYYY CHAPTER 5 OUT EARLY!!! i've been so so appreciative of all the love for this series 🥹 i figured it was the least i could do to get my ass up and edit the rest of it. hehehehe enjoyyyyy!!! ☀️🌻

series page for prev chapters

wc: 2197

5: Too Good to Be Fake

— 1 —

The next few days pass in a blur, and my real life and my fake life begin to meld all the same.

It’s subtle at first—little things, easy things. James slinging an arm over my shoulder in the corridor, without thinking about it, his hand drifting naturally to my waist when we squeeze through crowds. Me leaning into his touch on instinct, him whispering a joke just for me in class, both of us laughing too effortlessly.

The stares haven’t stopped. The whispers haven’t faded.

But somehow, I don’t care as much anymore.

Or maybe—I don’t care why they’re watching.

It’s not just the school anymore, though. It’s our friends. Alice and Jade don’t even try to hide their amusement anymore. Sirius has started giving James looks. Remus has started watching me.

Lily Evans has started paying more attention, too.

It’s another Saturday when I realize how far I’ve let this go: Quidditch practice.

I would never normally go to these. I’ve never had a reason to sit in the stands, watching a group of sweaty Gryffindors hurl themselves through the sky while screaming at each other.

But today, I’m here.

I keep telling myself it’s for appearances. People have to see me invested, have to see me acting like a real girlfriend. I bring a book, find a spot on the stands, fold my legs beneath me, and pretend I’m not watching James too closely.

I tell myself it’s just part of the plan. Making it look believable.

And then Lily arrives.

She doesn’t sit. She stands at the base of the stands, arms folded across her chest, gaze fixed on the pitch. I know who she’s watching, everyone does.

James cuts through the sky like he was born to be there, all fluid motion and instinct, his windswept hair a perfect mess, his body moving with a confidence that’s utterly effortless. The sun glints off his grin, bright and reckless, like he’s drunk on the thrill of it, and I feel that familiar lurch within me again—something warm, something unsteady, curling deep in my stomach before I can shove it away.

Lily tilts her head slightly.

Then, she glances back at me; and suddenly, it’s not just a game anymore. She’s watching me watch him. A challenge, a test.

Suddenly, I realize—this isn’t about her anymore. It’s not about making her jealous, and it’s not about Simon either. Because the thing unnerving me the most isn’t that Lily Evans is watching me.

It’s that James Potter hasn’t looked at her once.

— 2 —

The courtyard is quiet in the early evening, the last flickers of sunlight stretching long across the stone pathways. The air is crisp, cool enough to wake me up a little, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. I tell myself that’s why I’m lingering here instead of heading back to the dorms.

Not because I’m waiting for him, and not because I know he’ll find me. But then he does.

James’ footsteps are easy to recognize—a little too confident, a little too deliberate, like he’s always walking into a room expecting something fun to happen. But here, now, he doesn’t say anything right away. He just falls into steps beside me, hands tucked into his pockets, like this is normal. Like it’s always been normal.

I glance at him. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed like you wanted company.”

I huff, turning my gaze back to the darkening sky. “Oh, right. I always exude warmth and openness.”

James chuckles, nudging my arm. “You say that, but you haven’t told me to leave yet.”

I don’t respond. Because… he’s right.

The pause stretches, the courtyard filled only with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. For a second, while it’s just the two of us, walking in relative silence, it’s nice. Easy. Comfortable in a way I don’t have time to question.

Then James exhales, a little deeper than necessary, and leans against the railing beside me.

“You know,” he says, “you’re kind of terrible at taking a compliment.” His tone is too light, too airy for the kind of comment he’d just made.

I frown, caught off guard. “What?”

His gaze flickers to mine, and something in his expression softens—just slightly, but enough that it throws me off balance. “I mean, when I do something nice, you just… get awkward and run away.”

I blink at him. “That is— so not true.”

James lifts an eyebrow. “Oh? So last week when I said you looked nice, and you immediately knocked over your drink and changed the subject, what was that?”

I open my mouth— close it.

He smirks. “Exactly.”

I turn my face and look down the path we’re following, blinking, genuinely considering. “You just catch me off guard, that’s all.”

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “because the idea of me being nice to you is so shocking.”

“Yes, actually,” I quip, but the words come out lighter than I mean them to.

And that’s when James does something dangerous.

He shifts closer—just a little, just enough. His shoulder brushes mine, his voice lower now, softer. “You know, I like being nice to you.”

My stomach twists—thrilled, unsteady, completely betraying me. I let out a laugh, too quick, too high-pitched, a little too obviously forced.

James watches me, expression unreadable, but there’s something knowing in his gaze, something patient, like he’s waiting for me to catch up to something he’s already figured out.

“Alright,” I say, pushing away from the railing, not letting this get any more real than it already is, not letting myself think too hard about it. “This has been fun, but I’m going to—”

“Walk away before you have to acknowledge that you actually like me?” James finishes for me, eyes glinting with amusement.

I huff, already turning on my heel. “Exactly.”

I don’t get very far. James is right behind me, catching up too easily, too effortlessly, like he always does. “Merlin, if you wanted me to chase you, you could’ve just asked. Would’ve saved us both some time.”

I throw him a glance over my shoulder, my lips curving just enough to make his eyes flicker. "Where’s the fun in that? I like to keep you on your toes, Potter."

James huffs, but the way he watches me—like he's already planning his next move—sends something dangerously close to excitement skittering through me.

We’re walking towards one of the large entrances to the castle from the courtyard— there are some more students around now to witness our little interaction. He’s still beside me, still too close, still too smug.

“So what I’m hearing,” he muses, tilting his head, “is that you like me exactly where I am.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t speed up. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

James only grins, falling into step beside me like he belongs there. “Too late.”

— 3 —

The castle is cooler in the evening, the last remnants of daylight casting long shadows through the stone archways. The halls are quieter now, but not empty—the low murmur of conversation lingers, footsteps echo in different directions, and clusters of students drift toward their common rooms, pausing now and then to whisper as James and I pass. My footsteps sync with his, the weight of his presence beside me something I’ve stopped questioning. It’s been like this all week—effortless, natural, dangerously easy. And maybe that’s why I don’t notice her at first. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize we have an audience until it’s too late.

Lily Evans is waiting just inside the entrance hall.

She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, posture relaxed, but there’s something unreadable in her expression. She isn’t blocking our path, isn’t doing anything at all, really—just watching. Watching us. Her gaze flickers between me and James, taking in the casual way we’re walking together, how close we are, the way his fingers brush against my wrist when he gestures absentmindedly.

She sees it all.

James notices her just a second after I do, and though his steps falter, it’s barely noticeable. I feel the shift in his presence, the way something in him tightens, like he’s bracing for impact. But when Lily finally speaks, her voice is light, almost gossiping, like she’s indulging a passing curiosity rather than confirming something she already suspects.

"You know," she says, tilting her head slightly, "you two make sense together. I see it."

And James—James preens.

I see it happen in real time. The way his shoulders straighten, the way his lips curve just slightly at the edges. It’s instinctive, automatic, like some deeply ingrained part of him just got the validation he never even thought to ask for. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t check my reaction. He just moves.

I can’t even react— his fingers tighten around my wrist, spinning me expertly into him. Somehow it feels like we’ve done this a hundred times before, like we’ve been moving toward this exact moment without even knowing it. His free hand settles at my waist, warm and steady, pulling me close in a way that leaves no space, no room for doubt.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not for show. Not a performance. His lips press against mine, sure and unhurried, like he’s settling into something that’s already his. Heat flares at the base of my spine, climbing fast, white-hot flames licking up through my chest. His fingers flex slightly at my waist, like he’s anchoring himself, like he’s making sure I don’t pull away before he’s had his fill of this moment—of me.

The warmth of him crashes through me, a spark to dry tinder, setting every nerve alight. His lips move against mine, confident but measured, and for a second—just a second—I let myself fall into it. I feel the way he’s leaning in, the way he’s holding me there, the way his breath mingles with mine, like we exist in a pocket of air separate from the world.

But we don’t.

The corridor isn’t empty. The world doesn’t disappear. Students slow their steps, voices hush, a ripple of whispers spreading like wildfire. I hear someone inhale sharply, catch the flicker of movement in my periphery as people pause outright, wide-eyed, watching like they’ve just witnessed something they shouldn’t have.

And they have. Because this isn’t a show. This isn’t a play. It’s real, it’s burning through me, and it’s happening in front of everyone.

I break first.

I pull away too fast, too obviously flustered. I’ve probably ruined everything. I should’ve just played along— like he said to me before, enjoy the experience. I could’ve done that. Now I lost my chance.

James doesn’t move right away. He stays close, his breath still warm against my skin, eyes searching mine for something I can’t name. The silence stretches between us, heavy, lingering, filled with something I am not ready to understand.

Lily clears her throat, but she’s smiling now, something small and knowing. She looks between us, her eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

"Yeah," she says, tilting her head slightly. "I knew it. You two are really cute together."

She doesn’t linger. She just gives James one last look—something approving, something almost pleased—before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving us standing there in the weight of what just happened.

I scramble for something to say, but my mind is blank, wiped clean by whatever the hell just happened. My skin is burning, my pulse erratic, my body betraying me in ways I can’t even begin to process.

I force a laugh, light and dismissive, as if my heart isn’t trying to claw its way out of my chest. "Merlin, James," I say, shaking my head, playing it off, forcing the act back into place even as my hands tremble. "You could at least warn me before you go proving a point like that."

James watches me carefully. Too carefully.

And then, just like that, the mask slips back into place.

The easy grin. The effortless charm. The one thing he’s always been good at.

"Where’s the fun in that?" he teases, voice smooth, casual, like he’s not still standing closer than he should be.

The tension in the air is suffocating.

I step back. I need distance, space, air.

"Right," I mutter, my voice too light, too forced. "Well, this has been fun, but I should go—"

James doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, like he’s waiting for something I can’t give him. The silence between us stretches, thick, heavy, a question neither of us is ready to ask.

And then, because I can’t take it, because my heart is still slamming against my ribs, because the ground beneath me suddenly feels unsteady—I run.

I barely register the students still watching, barely hear the whispers that are sure to follow me. All I know is that I need to get away, to breathe, to pretend for just a little while longer that none of this means anything.

Run run run.

But no matter how fast I move, I already know—there’s no outrunning this.

Next in series: 6: Liar

☀️🌻

[taesanluv3r]

mini me.

girl dad! taesan au <3

based on this taesan scenario i posted. u and taesan's daughter is a menace (just like her dad), her name is vivienne bcs i've always wanted to name a daughter vivienne, vivi for short!! HEHEHEH reader is taesan's wife n mother of the kid btw <3 vivi calls her parents mommy n daddy TT no warnings tbh i think there's just one cuss word in the opening, fluffy cuteness, taesan is soooooo girl dad ugh. lowercase intended, pls excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors!! MWAHHH ENJOYYYY

wc: 3,739

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"oh for fuck's sake!"

han taesan laughs as his wife's loud voice echoes through the walls of their shared home, smiling softly when the little girl sat on his lap tilts her head in confusion at her mother's sudden exclamation coming from the other room. "what's up with mommy?" han vivienne wonders innocently, her tiny eyebrows furrowed as she looks up at her dad who was just as confused as she was. "i don't know but it looks like we are about to find out!" he whispers in response, the sound of footsteps emerging from the opening that lead into the living room where they sat.

a furious looking yn walks through the door. she's all dressed up in a matching all-black skirt and blazer set, her hair neatly tucked behind her ear, all ready to head to work. pretty, taesan thought, but he just couldn't ignore the fact that his wife looked like she was about to burn the building down. "what's wrong, darling?" the man's voice is soft and he begins to get up from his spot on the couch, telling his daughter to go play with her new toys while he talked to her mom. "everything! my meeting got pushed back further and now the new shipment for the store is delayed. and then my social media manager decided she can't come into work today because of some family issue and then on top of that, vivi's babysitter just quit! just like that! when she was supposed to come in and look after vivi today! it's just so...ugh!" the woman whines, slumping down on the couch as her hands made their way to cover her face in absolute stress. taesan's face softens at the sight, sitting himself down right beside her and rubbing little circles against the small of her back.

"hey, hey...don't stress too much okay? look at me..." he says sweetly, grabbing either side of her face to look at him. taesan shoots her an assuring smile, that same smile that never failed to send a swarm of butterflies to crowd inside of her tummy. "look, you just get to work and make the most out of it...i'll take vivi out today, okay? i don't have any work today so, i can take care of her, alright? don't worry, darling! you worry too much" he said, giggling when she leans into his chest and wrapping his long arms around her to pull her closer. "yeah mommy, you worry too much!" the squeaky voice of their one and only child interrupts their loving moment. the couple separated, watching as vivi climbs into her dad's lap once again before she turns to face her mother. "you know your hair will turn grey like a grandma if you worry so much!" her cheerful tone combined with her innocent grin makes her harsh words somewhat more bearable, a dramatic sigh escaping the woman's lips as she leans forward to attack the little girl in a ticklish set of kisses. "ah! mommy stop! daddy, save me!" vivi squeals in between giggles, crawling away from the woman's grasp to hide behind her father. the adult pair share a laugh and then a kiss before yn gets up to finally head out for the day.

"okay, mommy has to get to work and try to sort everything out in the office now. vivi..." yn drags out, her eyes narrowing as she looks down at her cheeky daughter who was the spitting image of the mischievous man she had married. "mhm...?" the girl replies, mimicking the way her mom prolonged her words. "you go bond with daddy for the day, okay? behave yourself, please?" instead of sounding like a command, the woman's words came out sort of like a plead. "hm..." vivienne begins, a tiny hand placed against her chin as she looks up in the air to think. "no promises! bye mommy! go now or you'll be late" she didn't even give her mom enough time to process the words before beginning to push at her legs to get her out the door. "bye darling! be safe, love you!" taesan calls out in between laughs, finding the mini version of himself's antics to be just...amusing.

"so...it's just me and you today, huh?" the man inquires, scooping the little girl up into his arms and pressing a happy peck onto her forehead. she squeals, playfully pushing his face away. she lets out a high-pitched giggle, the sound giving him slight cuteness aggression and it took every muscle in his body to not just stuff his daughter into his pockets at that very moment. "so what should we do today, hm? what do you want to do, love?" he asks, one of his large hands beginning to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her tiny little ears. "i know! i know!" vivi exclaims, her head that was leant against his chest shifting so that they were face to face.

"let's go to the mall!" she has this huge smile on her face, teeth showing and all, it was the kind of grin that you just could never say no to. not that han taesan would ever say no to his only child, his daughter, his little girl, the light of his life, his forever baby, his own clone, he would never! even if it meant spending all of his money on her every single time they stepped foot in the nearby mall...or any place that had things for sale for that matter...

a prayer for taesan's wallet, please.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"okay, so i watched a video on youtube...shouldn't be that hard, right?"

oh, but the ambitious dad was far too confident in his craft. as it turns out, doing a little girl's fishtail braid was far more complex than any kind of thing he's done before. he doubts himself for a second, she must've caught the way his eyes shook with worry from the mirror because in a second she had turned around to look up at the man, lifting her fists up in the air as she began to speak. "you can do this, daddy! i believe in you!" except the three year old could barely speak without stumbling over her words, her Ls turning into W sounds and the S in 'this' coming out with a lisp- but it's the thought that counts. taesan could almost feel the way his heart melted into a billion pieces, he began to wonder how on earth he got lucky enough to call this little menace his own child. then, with one deep breath and a newly found confidence, he separates a handful of his daughter's hair into four sections, saying a silent prayer before beginning to plait it just like the young woman in the tutorial did.

"is it done yet? i'm getting bored!" vivi whines, hands fiddling with the hem of her pink sweater. it's been nearly an hour since her father started working on her hair and it's safe to say that it was going nowhere! "um...hold on a minute...uh..." the man inhales all too loudly, staring at the entanglement of hair in front of him. "is it done? does it look cool?" the girl's eyes widen in excitement, staring into his own through their reflection. "well..." he trails off, biting his lip to stifle the laugh that was about to escape from it. "daddy, i wanna see!" her little arms were crossed over her chest in frustration and impatience. "i think...i think we should just leave your hair down today, love" her reaction to his suggestion was priceless, the excitement she previously displayed long gone and the most deadpan and uninterested look took it's place. taesan chuckles, "sorry, love. i'll try again next time, yeah?" he reasons, watching the way she nods in defeat and sighs as he began to unbraid (if you could even call that catastrophe a braid) his daughter's hair.

"can we go to the mall now? want ice cream!" vivienne says, tugging at her dad's vintage jeans. "mhm, go put on your shoes and we'll go" he watches as she runs over to the shoe rack towards the entrance of their home, an amused look plastered onto his face as his daughter struggles to put on her own shoes. if his wife were home right now, she would yell at him for standing still and not helping, but since she wasn't there at the moment the man took his time to laugh a little. "daddy...help me, please" vivi frowns, beginning to get annoyed by the footwear. taesan nods once, still giggling slightly as he bent down to sit on the floor with her. "watch closely i'll teach you to tie your laces now" he says, each end of the white laces in either one of his hands as he starts to demonstrate. "and then you loop this one over-" he was cut off by a baby-like scoff and a sassy eye roll from his kid. "daddy, can't you hurry up now?" he sighs, obliging and wondering where she had inherited the impatience from (ahem him ahem).

the car ride to the mall was peaceful for the most part. vivi insisted on sitting in the passenger seat, not wanting to be away from her dad for a second. taesan focused on driving, opening a bag of crackers for her to munch on so she wouldn't start whining about the rumbling in her tummy. "daddy what ice cream are you gonna get?" she asks, crumbs falling out of her mouth and her voice muffled by the half-chewed crackers. "me? hm..." he thought deeply about the answer, the car going dark as they entered the tunnel that lead to the basement parking area. "i don't know yet. what are you getting, love?" his hands graze the steering wheel, waiting for a response from the girl. "guess!" she exclaimed, hands in the air and a huge smile on her face. "maybe...mint chocolate?" taesan has a smirk on his face, knowing full well that was the wrong answer. "ew! no way daddy...that's gross! yuck!" he chuckled, parking the car as it came to a halt.

"c'mon" the man said, bending down to unlatch her seatbelt and lifting her out of the car before shutting the door and locking it. vivi grabbed onto his hand, tumbling slightly as she walked beside him in a zig-zag pattern. "ice cream time!" the girl squeals, the cool air-conditioning of the mall sending small goosebumps to appear on her tiny legs beneath her denim skort. taesan shook his head, "we gotta have some lunch before ice cream, love. or else your mommy would be very angry" he looked down for a moment just in time to catch her dramatic frown, chuckling at her sudden change in demeanor. "but i want ice cream" the man sighs, patting a hand against her head when she moves to hug his leg. "i know, love. and i will get you your ice cream after lunch, okay?" the tiny han girl nods in understanding, "now let go of daddy's leg so i can walk, please?" this time she shook her head, a playful and menacing smirk on her lips as she hugged him tighter. taesan clicks his tongue, beginning to waddle down the mall like an idiot.

"han vivienne...you will be the death of me"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"ice cream time!" vivienne repeats for the second time that day, shooting her dad a smile which he returned happily. "ice cream time!" he says as well, eyes widening slightly when she tugs him forward, walking so fast and pulling his arm with her. "okay, what flavour do you want, love?" taesan asks, his hands on his hips as he looked over all the options. "i can't see..." the girl mumbles, silently asking for her father to carry her up to his level. "oh, right, my bad" he panics, hastily bending down to lift her up. "um...i want...stawbelly!" her tiny voice breaks his heart into pieces, "you want strawberry? yeah? alright, one strawberry and one salted caramel, please" he's about to put her down but she refuses to let go of him (clingy baby TT). taesan laughs softly, "i gotta put you down so i can pay, love" he whispers, carefully bending down so that she could stand on her own.

"thank you, daddy" vivi says, smiling as she takes one large bite out of her strawberry ice cream. "you're welcome, love. is it yummy?" he asks, scooping up a spoonful of from his own cup. she nods joyfully, "mhm! it's delichuz!" the man furrows his eyebrows, "you mean, delicious?" he asks, trying to understand his daughter's baby talk. "yeah duh! that's what i said, silly" taesan laughs once again at his child's loud personality, grabbing a tissue to wipe away her dessert-stained cheeks as she messily slurped up the last of her sweet treat. "look here, i'm gonna send mommy a picture" he says, smiling when she strikes a silly pose. "mommy is gonna be so jelly!" she states and he nods, stacking up their empty cups to toss in the bin later.

"so...where to next, love?"

there's only one correct answer to that question. only one place in the whole mall, apart from the ice cream parlor, that feeds purpose to sweaty three year olds like han vivienne. a brightly lit store, rows and rows of all kinds of objects displayed clearly on shelves. every kid's dream, a place they would live in if they could, a place where all their parents end up spending the last of their monthly salaries in...

the toy store.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but han vivienne was no ordinary child. she was a menace, a spoiled brat, and had absolutely no shame. especially if it meant her loving father had to pay for it. and whatever happens at the toy store was no exception.

vivi squeals as she lets go of her father's hand to run into the store, the tall man following closely behind her. "hello there, what can i help you with?" one of the young ladies near the door asks, bending down to the kid's level to chat with her. "where are all the barbies?" she asks back sweetly, batting her eyelashes innocently as she spoke. "ah, right this way!" the lady energetically says, guiding the little menace over to where all the dolls were. "yay!" she cheers, her dad still walking behind her in a much slower pace. "ack!" she shouts, struggling to reach the beach-themed set that stood in a higher shelf, signaling for the employee to help her out a little. "oh, i got it, i'll help you hold it" the lady offers, earning a squeaky thank you in response. a few minutes go by and what was the one barbie doll in the worker's hand, had become a stack of five more similar toys.

"are you sure you want all of these?" the lady asks, her eyes widening when little vivienne hands her one final doll set. "mhm! don't worry, lady...daddy will pay for it! right, daddy?" the girl turns to grin widely at taesan. taesan who's cheeks were bright red from slight embarrassment, and eyebrows were tilted slightly so as to apologize to the poor employee his daughter had been dragging around. "okay, that's enough toys, vivi...now help the kind lady bring them to the register, please" his daughter nods, grabbing two out of the seven toys she had picked out and beginning to trot over to the counter to check out.

"yay!! thank you, daddy! i wuv you!" the little girl cheers, wrapping her tiny arms tightly around her father's leg. taesan chuckles, patting her head softly, "of course, love" the lady at the cash register smiles as she begins to pack away the toys into a paper bag. "her mom must be jealous..." she says, causing the man to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. "what do you mean?" he asks, putting his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. "i mean, your daughter looks exactly like you...makes me wonder what her mother looks like, sorry if it came off rude or anything...that's not my intention" taesan shakes his head, "no, you're alright..." he trails off, "you're right though. my wife tells me everyday how similar vivi is to me..." he continues, turning to look at the miniature version of himself who seemed to have found a mirror to stare into. "she's a daddy's girl, huh?" the lady asks, making him laugh. "i guess so..."

the conversation ends there. "here you go!" the cashier says, handing the man the big bag of toys he had just paid for. "thank you so much. hey vivi, you wanna come hold your things?" taesan watches as vivienne twirls around and waddles over to him. "hm...that's okay daddy, you can hold it!" the cashier bursts into laughter at the conversation exchanged between the father and daughter. "that sass...that's all from her mother" he tells the lady, shaking his head in defeat as the little menace grabbed a hold of his large hand, the bag of toys in the other one. "come again soon!" the employee says, waving goodbye at the little girl and her parent. vivienne grins one last time,

"don't worry, lady. we will!"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

the father and daughter duo are back home now. the rest of the evening was spent happily bonding within the comfort of their home. he had listened to her endless yapping about all the new toys she got today, smiling sheepishly at the little chatterbox he contributed in creating as they sat together on the floor by the television in their living room. then he put on her favourite show on the tv, letting her sit in silence with her stuffed animals as he waltzed over to the kitchen to prepare their meal for dinner. it began to rain outside so he had his doubts on ordering in, not wanting to burden the poor delivery man who would have to travel in this kind of weather. so instead, taesan opted for some instant noodles for the night- with no objections from his mini me either, of course.

"daddy lookie! i can slurp the noodles like uncle woonhak!" vivi says, tapping at her dad's shoulders to grab his attention. "oh yeah?" the older one asks, watching closely as the girl practically inhaled a forkful of noodles, causing her to choke up a bit from the broth. "ahem" she coughed and taesan panicked for a second, getting up to fill her disney princess cup with some water for her to drink. once they had finished up their dinner, the man carried his daughter back over to the couch, turning the show back on to occupy her while he put away the dishes and cleaned up in the kitchen. he quickly took out the trash as well, knowing his wife was coming home late tonight and deciding to do all the housework so she didn't have to worry about it the way she tended to.

"vivi, my love" he called out, walking over to where she was playing with her dolls on the couch. "come on, let's take a shower and get ready for bed" he said, beginning to put away some of the toys that remained scattered on the carpeted floor. "but we can still wait for mommy later, right?" the kid mumbles, her voice quieting down from the tiredness that finally began to seep through her little body. he smiled, nodding as he stretched his arms out to carry her into his arms. the dad's heart melted and his face softened as his baby nuzzles deep into his chest. he leans down to press a soft kiss against the very top of her head, holding her tight as they made their way over to the master bathroom to run a bath.

the warm bath paired with the combinations of lavender scented baby oils were enough to get the sleepy kid into a state ready for slumber. however, the purple pajama-wearing child remained stubborn, insisting that she could stay awake long enough to greet her mother when she got home. all taesan could do was laugh, knowing her words were far from the truth. but he nods along anyways, following her into the master bedroom and laying down under the comfortable covers. "i want Tayo!" vivienne requests, watching happily as the man puts on the show on his tv. she sings along to the intro song silently, encouraging for her dad to do the same too. soon, the kid who swore she wasn't tired yet began to drift off to sleep. her head resting against his chest, his fingers softly stroking through her freshly washed hair.

taesan didn't care to change the channel on the television. honestly, he was beginning to like the show about the little bus far more than he'd admit. the soft snoring coming from his daughter sent a feeling of warmth to engulf his own body. the man's gaze moved from the tv screen over to his precious child, he pressed a loving peck on her forehead, smiling to himself as she shifted in her sleep. "i love you, my mini me" he whispers, just a decibel louder than his heartbeat. a minute more went by and the creak of the front door causes his ears to perk up.

"taesan? vivi? i'm home!" yn's familiar voice echoes through the walls, a smile unconsciously sneaking onto his lips. "we're in the bedroom!" the man yelled out as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake the one snuggled against his chest. "hey, darling" he says when his wife finally enters the room, she looked exhausted, must've been a long day at work. "she asleep already?" the mother asks, leaning down to pat her daughter's slumberous head. her husband nods, sitting up carefully to catch her lips in his own. yn smiled into the kiss, as did he when they began to separate again. "so..." the woman begins, taking off her work clothes as she prepares herself for a shower. "what did you two do all day?" her question lingers in the air as she disappears into the bathroom, leaving taesan alone with the images of today replaying in his head.

"well, for starters..." he began, moving so that vivienne was fully laying on the bed. "we went to the mall today.." taesan gets up, following his wife into their shared bathroom. yn looked at him through the mirror, giggling when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed sweet kisses against her neck. "mhm...and then?" she asks, telling him to continue as she began to remove her makeup. "oh, and then that daughter of ours...she totally ran my wallet dry at the toy store..."

there was a pause for dramatic effect.

"again?!"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

HEHEH girl dad! taesan ☹️💘 i love him i love him i love him!!!!!! also han vivienne is such a cutesy name for a girl aw <3 anyways this fic made me kind of softy soft soft i might cryyyy 😭 hope u enjoyed, reblogs n feedbacks r so appreciated!! tysm for reading! love, kona.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  when broken is easily fixed

SUMMARY : priestly broke up with tish (yes!) uh, i mean… you watch him be pathetic and sad with his big wet green eyes.

PAIRING : boaz priestly x fem!reader (implied Latina)

CHARACTERS : tish (mentioned)

WARNINGS/TAGS : jealousy, breakups, fluff, tiny angst, innuendos, obliviousness x2

WORD COUNT : 2.7k

A/N : SURPRISE YALL, I’m back, heheheh. title from silverstein’s song. this fills the square “I’m having what you’d call a rough day” on my @jacklesversebingo card. lmao, this was nice to jump back into writing. I secretly like teaching y’all physics. 

You remember the day Priestly showed up at the market in a disappointingly normal state. 

No piercings, no colourful hair, no beard, no eyeliner. Just plain old California clothes, nearly looking Christian with his neat hair, and composed manners.

The only things that reassured you that Priestly was still Priestly after all, were the tattoos that peeked from outside the collar of a white dress shirt and the tiny holes in his skin where his piercings once belonged.

It was confusing at first, but he looked happy. Brighter.

You thought his parents were in town. Or that he became religious after all. Or that he joined a cult. 

You teased him at first. He’d just give you this dreamy look and never said anything to ease your curiosity about his current state. He’d be out the door in a hurry, with a tiny bit of that Priestly swagger that told you he was definitely not brainwashed by a cult.

But the reason for the sudden change in him soon became clear. 

One day, he walked into the store to buy groceries and other necessities with Tish. Hand in hand, the two of them. All giggles and shoves and smiles. The honeymoon phase. She’d kiss him on his cheeks, take his chin in her hand and press herself against him in an unnecessary manner to tell him something, and he’d look stupid, like he couldn’t believe she was there giving him affection. 

Your stomach dropped at the sight of them. 

You’d never felt the way you did before. 

Yeah, there was a cringey-ness and aversion you always had  for PDA and romance that you’d noticed in yourself for years, but it never bothered you like it did now. From watching Priestly and Tish be a couple.

But it also didn’t take you long to realise why it bothered you so much more. Why it was so much harder to ignore than if it were any other couple doing it. Why you felt rejected became clear.

You had feelings for Priestly.

What a dumb way to find that out. 

Excuse the fuck out of yourself if you were too focused on your university courses and your job and your future and your personal life… to realise that you really actually liked him. Romantically.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and pretend that you didn’t care at all when you were alone. You weren’t  going to lie to yourself about the sting you felt. Or push away the feelings of jealousy and push down how upset you were and the other, million emotions you felt as you watched them go about their lives as a couple for months. 

You never wanted to quit more badly than you did then, just to avoid having to see them get closer, clingier, more affectionate, serious. But it was the only way you could afford living in your dorm, to have enough to pay your classes, and afford your supplies and books... 

You sucked it up and pretended that nothing was wrong. Like you didn’t even care about him. Like you never did. 

It never really got easier, the only thing that became easy was pretending. 

You blamed yourself for waiting too long. That’s what haunted you. If you’d just been braver. If you’d been more honest with yourself and him. If you’d had the courage to say what you felt. If… if…

It was torture.

The high California-in-the-summertime temperatures made you think that you were in Hell, but time passed and you accepted that your chance with him had passed. You told yourself to move on and be happy. For the most part, as long as you ignored them, it was easy to be happy again, to live your life and do whatever your wildest friend was doing to enjoy her summer. 

But that happiness you’d seen in Priestly was gone by the time the fall semester came around. It took six long, horrible months for that happiness in him to fade away. 

It didn’t last. Just like the spring and the summer.

Until one day you didn’t see her with him. And the next day he was alone again. And the next week; alone. And the week after that, too. 

No Tish. 

Just mopey, wet-eyed Priestley. 

His stubble grew, his eyeliner returned—slightly smeared from tears. 

No more Banana Republic, Tommy Hillfigure, or Calvin Klein. Just those ridiculous shirts that always made you smile.

He entered the store today again after a week. 

The shop's bell rang and you looked up out of habit, and watched him with his gorgeous green eyes cast downward to the slightly dusty floor you were trying to sweep. God, you’d guess it was more of a depressing, someone’s-dead type of chime than a merry one—from the state of him.

His hair was a mess and slightly longer, it was not brushed or styled neatly. Like he woke up from a nap after breakfast and decided to go to the store because he remembered something he forgot before his nap. 

You felt bad… at first. 

His cheeks were pink and his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy from tears. He had darkened bags under his eyes. But as he moped around and you avoided being noticed by him out of awkwardness, you caught a glimpse of his shirt, which amused you: Hang in there, it gets worse, with a little thumbs up, too. 

He came completely in black, too. 

It was unavoidably funny. But you stifled your snort as you continued to sweep quietly, until eventually, you got lost in thought again. Your head filled with your to-do list before entering your final semester. 

But you eventually found yourself in the same aisle as him. You swept the trash up into the dustpan as you watched him try to hold bread, bananas, napkins, and toilet paper in one arm while trying to take out a gallon of milk from the fridge.

You saw what would happen from a mile away and quickly released the broom and left the dustpan where it was to help him. Before you could actually get to him, the napkins toppled out of his hold and he mistakenly released the milk to grab it which caused the gallon to burst open when it fell to the floor like a ripe melon in the sun. 

You gasped when the milk splattered on you, but you didn’t actually mind at all. Priestly, on the other hand, sighed heavily again, completely giving up. 

He finally looked at you when you reached for the napkins he dropped and you smiled warily at him, hoping it appeared more reassuring than pitiful. You handed him the napkins and he murmured an apology, taking them from you. 

“They say when you drop your food, it's because someone craved it,” you tried to make light of the situation but he didn’t even notice. He gently placed everything down on top of the shelf behind him with a deep sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” he frowned at the large white puddle, “I’m having what you’d call a rough day.” You huffed a soft laugh which made him raise a brow at you. 

“Day? You’ve been mopey and pathetic for weeks,” you teased playfully, but he remained quiet. You figured you’d offended him or hurt his feelings because he sniffled and looked down at his hands. 

Your face softened.

“I’ll pay for that.” He pointed to the spilt milk and broken gallon.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “Let me clean this up. I’ll help you when I finish.” You turned around to pick up some napkins you kept behind the counter and he made a sound of protest. 

He followed you, you heard him walking behind you quickly. “I made this mess. I should clean it. Besides, it’s almost your lunch break,” he tried to stop you. You laughed softly and shook your head as you laid yourself over the counter to grab the napkins from underneath the counter, your feet dangled embarrassingly above the floor.

“Hey, it’s no trouble,” you dismissed, smiling triumphantly to yourself when you got up with the napkins. “Go be a customer and bring your stuff… take two trips this time. There’s no one else here.” You snatched the napkins away from him when he tried to take them from you. 

He smiled a little. 

It made you smile more earnestly. 

“Okay… Fine…” he gave in hesitantly and followed you as you walked towards the mess he made. He picked up the stuff he left on the shelf and watched you squat down and lay some napkins over the puddle. The paper soaked the milk up and he slowly walked to the counter then returned as you finished up. 

He stood there awkwardly at first. Still just watching you clean up and then you got up and smiled at him sweetly. He smiled back at you gently and your heart sped up the way it always did when he looked at you. Your stomach clenched happily, but you frowned and quickly stepped away from him to throw the wet paper towels away along with the gallon that had contained the milk. 

“I’m really sorry,” he apologised again when you returned. 

“Priestly, it’s fine, accidents happen,” you chuckled to convince him and eyed the new gallon of milk. “You ready?” You wiped your hands on your jeans despite still feeling icky. 

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, then looked around at the unusually empty store. “You want me to finish sweeping for you? Or maybe… Do you wanna wash your hands? You look uncomfortable. I can wait,” he rambled.

You laughed at him, this was all too much for you so “early” in the morning. He instantly shut up and became flustered. His free hand flew up to the back of his neck and he laughed awkwardly. 

“Well, if it matters so much to you, put the Closed sign on while I throw the stuff in the dustpan away and wash my hands. I’ll meet you at the counter in five.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically. 

You rolled your eyes at the name, but walked away wordlessly to finish up. You actually were pretty hungry.

When you returned, Preistly had his hands in his trouser’s pockets, he was chewing on his lip, and his cheeks were red from embarrassment. 

“What’s that thing you said earlier about dropping food?” He asked, trying to alleviate the thick tension that hung in the air around the two of you. You smiled as you scanned the items he needed. 

“Oh, nothing,” you shrugged, “just a saying.” 

He was quiet for a moment and then you looked up at him. He was already looking at you and your face instantly started to get warm again. You looked away as casually as you could to finish scanning the remaining items and neatly placing them inside a plastic bag. 

“It was funny.”

“Ha, I guess…” you shrugged awkwardly and told him the price of his groceries. 

“Right…” he took out random, balled up dollar bills from his back pocket despite having a wallet with enough space. You smiled curiously and took the money from him. 

God, hurry and leave, you prayed internally as you placed his money in the cash register and took out his change. You dropped three quarters and a nickel into his hand when you began hearing the soft sound of rain hitting the windows and the concrete outside, and the delightful aroma of petrichor sneaking through the vents into the store.

“Fuck,” Priestly muttered, his fingertips grazed your palm and your body lit up like the second the temperature of the universe hit one billion Kelvin after the Big Bang, finally allowing neutrons and protons to form atomic nuclei as they hit and stuck to each other. “The worst day ever.”

You snapped out of your daze, disappointed, but not surprised at his obliviousness. 

“I could give you a ride,” you offered with a shrug, taking your bag from inside the bottom drawer as he took his bag of groceries.

“I keep wasting your time…” he trailed off, but he did not decline your offer. 

“That’s fine. Where do you live?” You made your way around the counter and walked past him to stand at the door and watch the rain slowly come heavier.

“You’re a stranger,” he joked, and you turned to roll your eyes at him. “What? You could secretly be a Mankiller.” You opened the door with a sarcastic laugh and squirmed as rain hit your face.

“Please, look at me,” you scoffed playfully, locking the door to the store once Priestly stepped outside with you. 

“I am,” he said gently. 

You looked up at him with your brows knitted in confusion. “Whatever. My car’s over here,” you brushed him off and quickly led him to your car.

You both sighed once you were safely inside the freshly cleaned car. He laughed to himself as he looked around inquisitively, but you didn't question him. You turned your car on instead to pull out of the driveway and asked him again where he lived as a Britney Spears song played on the radio. This time he finally answered your question seriously.

The conversation was light and you kept asking him about the sandwich shop he worked at and about his friends to avoid talking about yourself or his break up. It was basically small talk, bleh. The conversation was superficial because you didn’t want to get close to him, not now, not when he was freshly broken up and still clearly hurting. 

He ran his hand through his hair once you parked outside his house, somehow he managed to make it look tame. He looked at the time and you waited patiently for him to get out so you could leg it and cry to your friend over the phone about how you were so not over him. 

“Stay,” he proposed suddenly when he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I can make you a sandwich, I’m really good at that.” You shook your head at first and racked your brain for some excuse to get away. “Whatever you want, I’ll make it for you, I’ve even got some soda in the fridge. Please, I feel really bad.” You chuckled softly at him and the pleading eyes he gave you. They looked much wider and greener. 

“Fine,” you gave in, “I’m really hungry, so… I guess I could stay for a bit.” He lit up slightly and started to get out of the car before you managed to turn it off. But you caught up with him as he kicked the welcome mat to the side to retrieve his house’s key. 

“You want a sub?” He asked, you bit your tongue to stop yourself from making a joke out of that and nodded as you entered his messy house. Oh well, he’s been going through a breakup. 

“Oh, God, I forgot it’s a mess,” he apologised when he looked at the star of everything around him. “Close your eyes, pretend you don’t see it,” he pleaded jokingly. 

“As long as I don’t step in something squishy, we’re all good,” you reassured him with a small laugh. You followed him to the kitchen and figured he must be going through the not-eating breakup rather than the eating-my-feelings breakup.

“How big do you want it?” He asked you, setting the bag down on the counter and going to wash his hands.

“How much do you think I can take?” You asked before you could actually filter it out of your mind. He quickly looked at you, amused and intrigued while he dried his hands with a clean towel from inside his cabinet. “Kidding, how big is it?” He laughed loudly at your question which made you get more flustered, but he still gave you a measurement with his hands. “Half of that,” you tried to ignore his face and sat down before your knees gave out from embarrassment. 

“If you can only take half of that, I don’t think you could handle me.” 

Your mouth fell open. You were sure you stopped breathing for a few moments when your heart stuttered and your stomach lurched at the thought.  

This time, you blinked at him in surprise, but your eyes stayed wide, and you felt yourself turn hotter before you both bursted out laughing. 

@spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @lanassmarty @candy-coated-misery0731 @jessllianaquilesrolonworld @murdockscumsock @the-achievementhunter @lyarr24 @rominaszh @zepskies @lickmybawls @jackles010378 @winchstrdean @deanwinchestersgirl87 @k-slla @mrlonelycat @taylortotsworld @ohnosy @angelbabyyy99 @impala1967rollingthroughtown @iwishiwasntreal @pasteldecrack @blackcherrywhiskey @dayhsdreaming @xshortputax @imsapphine @il0vebeingdelulu @gravesphillip @illicithallways @saturnsooya

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[oceanamethyst]

@mysticcollectionbee

When I first got this reply, I gave a really quick, excited answer.

But looking back…

Holy crap.

Season 1, Episode 5, the scene where Alastor yells at Husk. I think it was so much more significant than we realize.

“B-but Ocean-”

SHUT UP LET ME EXPLAIN.

First of all, I’d like to mention Husk's cold remarks towards Mimzy. Husk is always grumpy, but pay attention to this, as it'll be more important as I go on.

“Hey boss, can I have a word?”

“... What is it?!”

Husk asks Alastor to talk. Alastor hears Husk out.

“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something… that bitch is trouble. And who knows what kind of demon she fucked with to come running to you this time?”

“It's nothing I can't handle! Don't worry, Husker! And who in their right mind would cross me?”

Husk warns Alastor about his friend only being around because she needs something. Alastor immediately dismisses it, causing Husk to have an interesting reaction.

“I mean- you've been gone for a while. And it's not like anybody knows why-”

Pay attention to Husk's TONE OF VOICE. His tone was the same as when he was talking to Angel Dust in the first half of Masquerade (up to Loser, Baby). He's trying to get Alastor to listen to him. Almost like he's trying to HELP Alastor.

“They don't need to know! And don't you worry your fuzzy head about it!”

Once again, Alastor dismisses Husk, this time, in a condescending manner (as if the previous time wasn't condescending already). Alastor is establishing his control over Husk.

“Grgh! You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet.”

This kind of reminds me of when Husk screamed “Christ!!” in response to Angel’s banter.

“But you are!~”

Alastor firmly states that he is in control.

“Big talk for someone who's also on a leash…”

And then Husk states that he is NOT in control, as his soul has been sold as well.

“Haha, what did you say?”

“Nothing, I uhh-”

“If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for EVERY OTHER DISRESPECTFUL WRETCH, who DARES to question me.”

“U-understood.”

“Lovely… haha! Good talk, my good man! Always nice to catch up!”

Alastor basically screams how he's in control, and proves it, abusing Husk in the process.

Recap.

Husk doesn't like Mimzy. She only comes when she needs Alastor. She may be annoying, and perhaps that is part of Husk’s animosity towards her, but the main reason is how she only comes when she needs Alastor's assistance. Basically… Husk doesn't like Mimzy because she is USING Alastor, and Husk knows it.

Husk asks to talk to Alastor, and Alastor listens.

Husk warns Alastor about Mimzy, and Alastor dismisses it.

Husk continues to nudge Alastor, while Alastor is insisting that he is in control, ultimately ending with Alastor showing his power to Husk, traumatizing Husk, whom was just trying to help Alastor.

After the Loan Sharks attack the hotel, Mimzy approaches Alastor.

“Oh, Alastor. What a fantastic show, bravo, as always! Thanks for helping li’l ol’ me out of a tough spot. You're always such a pal.”

Mimzy is showering Alastor with praise.

((crash)) “Hehehehe… Sorry about the mess, but I'm sure the li’l bug can take care of it for you…”

She's sugarcoating all the damage to the hotel.

“...I think you should go, Mimzy. Now.”

Alastor was probably thinking over what Husk said. I can only imagine Alastor's thoughts right now.

“Oh! Pfft! Alastor, you're such a kidder, you. You're so funny!!”

Mimzy is playing off what Alastor said as a joke, exaggerating her facial expressions.

“I mean it! You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess! I can't have that here…”

Alastor paraphrases what Husk said. Meaning that…

ALASTOR DID NOT KNOW THAT MIMZY WAS USING HIM.

That's right.

Alastor most likely did not know (possibly in denial) that Mimzy was using him. And even if he did, why would Alastor allow someone to use him like that? He has a job to do. And he puts his friendship with Mimzy over it.

“But you love taking care of me! What? You don't actually give a shit about this tacky place, do you? Come on, I know you! You heartless son of a bitch.”

This is straight-up gaslighting. I just so happen to have some notes about abusive relationships open right now, and we're checking a few boxes. She's guilt-tripping Alastor and having him question his true thoughts to get him to do what she wants.

“You are welcome, if you actually want to give redemption a shot, but I think we both know that's not really your style… So you need to leave.”

Alastor puts his foot down (or should I say ‘staff down’).

“F-fine! Who needs you?! Have FUN with your little princess and your little hotel! See if I care!”

Mimzy storms off after some more guilt-tripping.

And Alastor’s expression is just… Ugh. Betrayal, feeling done with everything, maybe even feeling stupid?

And then Husk is happily eating popcorn like an absolute king. Perhaps it was because Alastor listened, perhaps it was because Mimzy stormed off, or maybe because Alastor put his cane down and ended the relationship (despite how cruel Alastor can be).

Anyway, this conversation, this whole situation is almost the saddest example of the phrase, “Don't close the barn door after the horses ran away.”

Alastor is so desperate to be in control, yet at the same time, he is oblivious or okay with being used.

What is going on with this guy??!

His character is so interesting, no wonder he's my comfort character (my poor baby WOAH WHO SAID THAT????)!

Okay I'm done bye.

[lightlycareless]

Hi! As a Naoya fan, I really appreciate what you do for us and girl, I just love your works <33

So, Eh, I don't know how to say this... Can you write a fic about him where he has been married to a woman chosen for him by his clan but after so many years, he can't forget y/n? I mean, it's so cliché Ik, but I just can't get it out of my mind. It's like he really loved her and would've even eloped with her but at the end, it was y/n who asked him to go back to his clan since she knew that it was Naoya's fate to be the clan head. So, eventually y/n leaves and Naoya marries his wife and he gets to be the head of Zenin clan and later on, he kinds wishes his wife would give birth to a daughter so he could name her after y/n. Or maybe she does and while everyone expects him to torment the poor wife, he would silently pick up the baby and hug his daughter as if he wishes she was her baby?

so yeah, that's it, thank you anyway.

Hello!!!!!!!!

Omg thank you so much I'm soooo glad you like my work 🥹❤️

HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH this ask has been on my mind since it first popped up jfc you know how to torture me.

I have been working on a small fic too with a similar topic, it's not going to be that long as my other work but I think you'll find it enjoyable too hehe. ... if I ever get back to it. heheheh.

ajkghasjgha anyways, let's get right into it.

warnings: angst. mentions/implications of death and unaliving someone :s. naoya is really cruel when referring to his unborn child.

Happy reading!

“If we ever have a daughter, I would like her to be named Naomi”

Is the first thought that crosses Naoya’s mind upon learning that his wife is expecting a daughter.

But beyond that, there is no excitement. No glee in his eye upon learning he’s to become a father in just a matter of months, his seed finally taking root after many dutiful attempts.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a cute name. And I always thought it was adorable how your family named the children after their parents. You are no exception, Naoya.”

He should be happy, right? Glad that his efforts ultimately paid off.

“That’s not too cheesy, is it?”

“…I think I’ll be happy just to have a family with you, regardless of what the baby is named.”

That he was to have the cherished family he always dreamt of having with the love of his life, after so many years of solitude…

Except he wasn’t.

Because his wife, the one carrying his child, wasn’t you.

…

…

…

Ever since he lost you, for a lack of better words, nothing has been the same.

“A daughter… of all the possibilities. Let’s just hope she’s strong.” His father would say, disappointed by the announcement. Naoya remains quiet, uninterested to respond but still deep in thought.

“Do you think they’ll look like you?”

“I hope not.”

“Gee, why not? I know I haven’t seen pictures of you as a baby, but I’m sure you were a cute one!”

Because I want them to look like you.

The sole purpose of his futile life was gone. And with it, any semblance of concern. Care for all that happened around him, or anyone for that matter.

Including his supposed partner, the woman the Zen’in assigned him to marry and continue their legacy. Even when she stood before him, seeking comfort, or at least encouragement after seeing the doctor, to Naoya… she was simply not there.

“Naoya-sama.” She’d call to him once in the privacy of their room, right after the doctor had left. The woman named Taeko, had always been… loyal, meek, submissive. Never one to retort or do anything that wasn’t to please him.

Yet, as much as she had fooled his family, Naoya was still able to see right through her.

Taeko didn’t care about him; no, not at all. The only thing she truly she cared about was the heir. The money that came along with his title, the financial security this meant for her…

More so now that she was pregnant; dictating that even when divorced, she would never have to work a day in her life.

Perhaps if he hadn’t discovered what love was, then maybe he would’ve struggled to discover her true intentions. Unfortunately for them, he had met you, with whom he learned what it was to be happy for once in his life… a teaching that will forever live on within him, naturally making this marriage almost impossible to coexist with.

As well as painful, remembering that this is all he had left of you, besides memories.

Naoya keeps quiet even when his wife calls for him yet again, not bothering to lift his gaze from whatever it was that took his attention, nor requesting her to proceed.

She takes his silence as her cue to continue.

“I know having a daughter wasn’t in the plans, but…” Taeko said, stepping closer to him. Just a few inches away from touching him… “I am still excited to welcome this new stage in our life.”

Of course she is. Her future is firmly set, regardless of his family’s ideals and the baby’s gender.

“I was actually thinking of naming the child after you, to follow your clan’s tradi—”

“You will not do such thing.” Naoya scowls, swiftly turning around and pushing her away, the burning look of his enraged eyes reveals she’s reopened a painful wound she’ll perhaps never comprehend.

Nor care to do so, believing instead that his anger came from her supposed failure to bring a male heir onto the Zen’in clan; and not because of the privilege—no, the right she’s stripping away from you.

Because you are the only one that deserved to be the mother of his children, the one to name them, love them, raise them…

Not this poor excuse of a leech.

“I heard you were having a child… congratulations, Naoya.” Ranta begins, partially unsure on how to approach the future father, or to do so at all… eventually settling to go through with it anyway. An announcement like this must make anyone happy, right? “Although I never expected your first child to be a girl! I mean… I always thought you’d have a bo—”

“This isn’t what I want, and you know that.” Naoya coldly cuts through Ranta’s words, making him flinch. “So, spare me the theatrics.”

Ranta swallows, he is amongst the few, if not the only, who knows the truth, the depths of his relationship with you:

Or your supposed fate.

And how angry he got when he knew the truth… or what he suspected, anyways.

Your disappearance wasn’t a simple coincidence, a misfortune of fate.

It was a necessity for the Zen’in’s plans; you quickly became nothing less than a hindrance once Naoya announced his intentions of marrying you.

They couldn’t permit a woman of your background to become Lady of the House. An unruly, opinionated girl that went against every single one of their beliefs. Nor could they allow you to free Naoya from their grasp.

And so, they did what was necessary. Get rid of their obstacle, call it a simple disappearance, cold feet as others assured, and let everything fall back into place.

Leaving Naoya behind with his cruel family, yet again.

But they’d never admit it. They would just say that your family decided to search for better opportunities elsewhere, you tagging along.

Yet, the body of an unidentified woman found in the middle of a forest near your home would indicate—

“—What are you going to do?” Ranta asks.

“There’s nothing for me to do.” Naoya frowns. “The only person I ever loved, the one person I should’ve never let go… is gone, and now, I’m stuck in this nightmare, alongside a woman that wants nothing from me but my money. Just like everyone always is.”

Ranta wishes to deny his accusations, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to his grieving friend. It would insult him, and you.

“…But…”

“But what?” Naoya retorted.

“…Well, you should at least… consider the baby. They—they shouldn’t be held accountable for what their mother has—”

“Don’t even dare call that thing my child.” He coldly declares. “It may have my name, but that thing is not mine. What assurance do I have that it is? She could’ve easily bedded anyone to get the job done!”

“Naoya! You— you shouldn’t say that!”

“Can you prove the contrary?”

“No—but it’s not right to make these assumptions either!”

“Then what do you suggest, dear friend of mine?”

“I… I think you—"

Have to let her go.

It becomes clear to Ranta how gravely he had underestimated the wound your absence had inflicted on Naoya’s heart—but perhaps he never wanted to admit such thing, for it would only remind his friend of what he once had and now lost forever.

But no matter how much he wished to act the fool, there was no hiding his heightened destructive tendencies, his aggravating isolation, which he already did with people he didn’t like, rising tensions between members alike, forcing them to steer clear of Naoya if they wished to live another day; or pester his father about the misbehavior of his son, forcing him to burden his wife with duties of cheering him up, or something if she wished to stay at the estate—

All for naught, for she had effectively ceased to exist the moment she announced her pregnancy. For the following 9 months, Naoya wouldn’t look her in the eye, even when sleeping in the same bed. Not that there were many opportunities to do so, for he eventually confined himself to whatever other room was available, officially dictating their marriage as unsalvageable.

Some took it as a reflection of his disappointment, a rightful reaction to have towards a female successor.

But Ranta knew better. Those close to him knew the truth.

He was openly reproaching his wife for having taken your place.

So naturally, he wasn’t there when Taeko went into labor. He wasn’t attentive to her calls, desperate pleads of companionship and support—he simply walked past her cries as she gave birth to his child and headed straight into the training grounds, just what he had exuberantly done these past few months to distract himself.

Yet, as much as he wished to run away from his reality, he wouldn’t be able to escape his duties, forced by relatives alike to go and meet the mother of his daughter to officially recognize her. Regardless of the brewing animosity between the two, if there were no other suitable candidates, this baby was still to be the future of the Zen’in, and thus, necessary to name.

Naoya doesn’t bother to wonder on who’d the child would look like the most, still, he knows he’ll hate it even more if she ends up a carbon copy of her mother—would it even matter if she took more after him instead?

Nonetheless, curiosity manages to get the best of him when entering the room where his wife and child awaited, walking past the midwives and straight to his so-called partner, leaning close to the small bundle wrapped in a white blanket, making up his mind in effectively cutting her out of his life if she ends up looking like Taeko.

But when he begins to get a glimpse of her small face…

The most unexpected happens.

As if the child knew her father was near, she slowly opens her eyes, revealing a golden gaze that reinstates her relationship to him—followed by a small patch of his black hair on top of her head, the shape of his eyes…

But most importantly, the words you once confided to him during the intimacy of the night.

“I want them to have your eyes. Your nose. Your hair. Your smile. I want the world to see all the things I love from you through our children.”

As well as your burning desire to have children that looked just like him, even when he hoped otherwise.

He doesn’t know what it was. Certainly not the excitement of having a life permanently intertwined with a woman he didn’t love; but something about your memory, how much you desired this moment, the innocence that engulfed such child, one that he only thought possible through you, his features shown through her, and how vulnerable she felt once in his arms…

Naoya found it unnecessary to wonder what kind of reaction you would have, still, he liked to imagine the brightness in your face, the love in your eyes, the grin on your lips: to be overjoyed to finally have a family with him, eagerly waiting to live out the future that waited for the three.

If this is the way you’d continue to live on, then he’d honor such memory; one last insult to the family that had continuously hurt him over and over again, through merits they would never wipe away, no matter how much they’d try—

“The name, for the child.” The midwife asks, moving closer to Naoya.

Under his own conditions.

“Y/N— Y/N Zen’in.” Naoya declares, softly looking down onto the child. “That will be her name.”

“Wh—What!?” The mother gasps, quickly understanding the implications behind his selection, followed by a futile attempt to make him reconsider, stop him from removing her existence!

But he had long erased her from his consideration, declaring that she was to have no relationship with the child, opting to raise her himself, his sole successor; Taeko would have whatever she needed to live a comfortable life, but that was it.

Naoya would give his daughter all that she needed to strive as a sorcerer, or whatever else she’d decide to pursue.

He’d swore to love her and raise her, protect her from the cruelties of this world, do all in his power to make her happy… but most importantly:

Treat her as if she had been yours.

Essentially, dunno if I managed to convey that, yes; you were killed. an act that scared your family away and left Naoya without knowing what ever happened.

Also, I'm debating whether to write a small epilogue hehe. I have written a bit extra after this but decided to cut it out.

AND OF COURSE the name... originally I was going to name his wife Kayako but I've decided to take advantage of the animosity we feel against the name Taeko and there you have it :))) 🖕 bye Taeko.

Ngl this was sad for me to write; I always hated/enjoyed the topic of Naoya marrying off someone else because of reasons, though it was clear he always longed for you and viceversa. Or not. I just like angst 😭 and fortunately, this isn't the last time we're going to see something like this :) I do have something I'm working on, I just gotta connect the dots. I intend it to be quite short anyways.

Anyhow, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! 😭 it was such a treat to torture myself with.

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!! ❤️❤️